Prue, Piper and Paige: Charmed and Dangerous
by swaggedoutkidd
Summary: After the Source kills Phoebe Halliwell, her sisters Prue and Piper vow vengeance, even if it is just the two of them against all the forces of the Underworld. Fortunately, they discover half-sister Paige Matthews and reconstitute the legendary Power of Three. With two Whitelighters and the new Power of Three, does anything stand in the way of the Halliwells?
1. 3x22 All Hell Breaks Loose

**Author's Note: Charmed Canon played with a lot of inaccurate things. For the sake of other fans, I'm setting Prue's birth as October 27, 1970, which makes her the first in the seventh generation of Warren witches (assuming a generation is 30-35 years). Piper's birthday is arbitrarily June 5, 1972. Phoebe's birthday is November 13, 1975. And Paige's birthday is August 2, 1977. Their mother dies in the summer of 1978. **

**This story will be multi-chapter. I haven't started the next two parts, but this part will cover Season 4. (I hope I have explained that well) Anyway, please flood me with reviews so I know where I need to improve and fix things. **

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**All Hell Breaks Loose**

"I think we made it. Do you think we made it? I'm sure we made it!" Piper rambled as she jogged up the concrete walk.

Prue still fumbled with her door keys. Despite the severity of the situation, the eldest Halliwell sister was unwilling to use her magic to open the door. "I don't know! I'm sure Shax would have attacked by now if we hadn't!"

The lock finally tumbled and gave way. "Who would have attacked by now?" demanded Doctor Griffiths.

For three years, the three sisters had fought over one hundred demons, warlocks, ghosts, and other forms of malevolence with their own good magic. They were the seventh generation of Warren witches, the long-awaited Charmed Ones who represented the culmination of good magic in their family's line in part through their bond as sisters.

They had encountered their most challenging year yet since their first few months in the craft. Piper was almost prevented from marrying the love of her life, Leo, because he was a Whitelighter and prohibited from falling in love with the witches he protected. After many trials and almost endless tears, the Powers That Be had permitted the guardian angel to wed Piper in an elaborate ceremony in their home.

Phoebe's boyfriend, Cole, was literally Leo's polar opposite, a vicious and lethal half-demon who had been sent by the Source of All Evil to kill the Halliwell witches. Somehow, Cole had fallen in love with Phoebe and through many months, he demonstrated how much he truly loved and cared for her. Two weeks prior to their entrance with Doctor Griffiths, an attack at the Manor had demolished all of Phoebe's faith in him and put all three sisters' lives at risk. A banshee's destructive wrath in San Francisco had threatened Phoebe's life, and surprisingly, it was a confession from Cole that had spared her the agony of living and dying as a banshee.

Prue and Phoebe shoved the doctor through the ornate double doors of 1429 Prescott Streeet. The balding surgeon, although genial and kind, for the most part had annoyed them. Prue thought he looked like a rat; Piper thought he resembled a blue-eyed ferret; and Phoebe found herself comparing him to a bug.

It was unfortunate that the sisters were no longer under the influence of the thought-hearing spell they had used the previous year.

"Phoebe, were we attacked in the Manor or at the hospital?" Piper demanded urgently. "I swear I just felt something, like a chill or something."

"I don't know! I saw the attack, we saved Doctor Griffiths, and we kicked ass! What more do you want?" Phoebe whined, closing and locking the front doors.

"I would like to know _more_ about the demon we were up against!"

"Demon?" repeated Dr. Griffiths.

Piper sighed. She was the sister who worried about details and about the interference of magic in their lives. Lately, it was causing her more distress. "You probably didn't even pay attention to the premonition because it wasn't about Cole," she said snidely.

"I thought you expressed all your feelings about Cole at our last sisters' meeting?"

"Yeah, well, that was two nights ago!"

"Alright, Phoebe," Prue interjected, "how about you go upstairs and check for a spell to vanquish Shax?" Phoebe nodded in agreement.

"Spell?" Dr. Griffiths' ferret-like face contorted with confusion.

"That means, do not get sidetracked with any Cole potion or any Cole spell, because we've got enough demons to deal with right now! The only ones we're concerned with saving right now, are us!"

Phoebe pouted. "Piper, chill," Prue admonished, "this is not the Barbie Battle of 1980 all over again, okay?"

"Okay. Sorry, Pheebs." Piper gave her sister a side-hug in an effort at reconciliation.

"It's okay. I'll go get the spell so we can destroy some demon ass." The youngest Halliwell sprinted upstairs.

"Ok, now what Cole potion are you talking about?" Prue asked, once Phoebe was out of hearing range.

"Excuse me?" Dr. Griffiths waved his arms like a drowning swimmer. "I'm still here! Can someone please explain to me what's going on?"

Piper sighed and turned to her elder sister. "It was your idea to bring the ferret home, Prue. You explain things to him."

The elder Halliwell sister sighed, realizing her error and being anxious and emotional about the loss of seven Innocents since Leo and Piper's wedding. "Dr. Griffiths, you are a good person, and there's a demon after you."

"What?" The man looked like he was on the verge of a heart attack.

"Look, you do good things. You heal people, you save people's lives. We're not sure exactly why the demon is after you. Either you've saved too many lives or you're about to save a life they don't want you to save. But they definitely want you dead."

Two demons so powerful, Phoebe could practically feel the magical energy dripping from them, walked into the chambers of the demon Belthazoar. Towering with shaved human heads and ripped upper bodies, the demons were identical to the black leather, silver studded garb that identified them as the select guard of the Source. "So…has time changed up there? Are my sisters alive?" Phoebe asked tearfully.

For Phoebe, her boyfriend Cole, and her brother-in-law Leo, less than six hours had passed since the demon Shax had attacked the Halliwells in their home. In that span of time, magic had been exposed when a TV crew filming across the street captured the Prue and Piper wounding the powerful Shax in retaliation for his attack. Chaos ensued. Dozens of fanatic people had encamped on the Halliwell's lawn, accompanied by thirsty TV crews and even a few crazy conspiracy theorists. In a turning point, a mentally disturbed woman named Alice Hicks shot Piper because the Halliwells did not welcome her into their coven. Although Prue had rushed Piper to San Francisco General, Piper tragically died from her wounds.

It had catalyzed an unbelievable deal: In exchange for remaining captive in the Underworld and learning to practice the Dark Arts, Phoebe asked the Source, via Cole, for the demon Tempus to reverse time. She and her sisters had battled the demon two years earlier, wounding him in their battle for control of a sinister Time Loop engineered for the Charmed Ones' deaths. Neither the Powers That Be nor the Source had the kind of power to reverse time that Tempus did, because Tempus' foray into the manipulation of time proved the costly danger of interfering with the flow of time. The Charmed Ones had wounded Tempus in their battle.

Yet, Cole had reported that the Source had complied with her request. "The Source ordered Tempus to reverse the flow of time. Everything up there has been restored to the moment before the witches were attacked."

"Great," Leo said, "we're outta here." He started to cross the room toward Leo, but one of the muscular demons stepped into his path.

"The Source made a deal with the witch. If she stayed, then time would be reversed. Are you trying to double cross us, Whitelighter?"

"I don't have time for this. I have to save my wife." Leo Orbed from in front of the demon to Phoebe's side and reached for her nearest arm. Before he could touch her, the other guard hurled a medium-sized energy ball at him. Phoebe gasped as Leo dissolved into a cloud of orbs, slammed against the rocky walls of Belthazoar's chamber, and collapsed unconsciously to the floor.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. "This isn't part of the deal!"

"The Source has decided he would rather have the Charmed Ones dead than divided." Both guards formed energy balls in their hands.

"_They_?" Dr. Griffiths repeated incredulously. "Who are they?"

"They are the Source of All Evil and his personal assassin, Shax."

Piper nodded smugly at the brevity of Prue's explanation. Dr. Griffiths seemed even more flabbergasted. "And who are you, Charlie's Angels?"

"Um, no, we're…" Prue shuddered.

"What is it?" asked Piper.

"I just felt a chill. Phoebe?"

There was no response from upstairs. "Oh, I get it. This is some kind of sick joke," Dr. Griffiths said.

Prue ignored him. "Phoebe, are you coming?"

"What is this, a bad episode of Candid Camera?"

"Hey Pheebs," Piper chimed in, "any day now would be great."

"Did my second wife put you up to this?"

"Maybe I should go upstairs and check on her. She's been really sensitive about the Cole thing since he saved her from being a banshee," Piper said.

"I swear that woman will do anything to get back at me. She was the one who broke up our marriage, you know."

"Good idea, I'll…" Before Prue could finish her sentence, a gale force wind blasted the doors of the manor open. Piper and Prue, standing to Dr. Griffiths' right, were propelled backwards into the dining room by the powerful cyclone that roared into their home. The doctor backed away from the whirling wind.

In a flash of lightning, the winds became an imposing figure of a demon. Shax, the Source's best assassin, was a lethal killer. With smoky blue skin and robes colored like the winds that roared constantly within his towering form, he seemed more like he belonged in a meditation circle or among a crowd of chanting hippies in Ashbury than a demon. His ash white hair billowed from his skull, giving the impression that he lived in a wind tunnel. Only Shax's milky white eyes and husky torso made him appear solid.

"Phoebe!" Piper yelled, tasting blood where her teeth had torn her mouth.

"Who are you?" Dr. Griffiths demanded cowardly.

Shax studied the mortal carefully. He had never considered a response for anything but pleas and begging, because his arrival signaled only one thing. "The end."

He wound his arm back, as if he were about to pitch a ball at Dr. Griffiths. In that second, Prue surveyed the scene before her. _'I'll be damned before I lose another Innocent the way I lost Andy. He died here in the Manor because I didn't try hard enough to save him. I put myself and my sisters first, not this time.'_

Prue launched herself from the floor with a warrior's yell. She slammed bodily into the balding doctor as a gust of wind erupted from Shax's claw. The blast of wind was numbingly cold, a small mercy as it propelled her slim body through the wall partitioning the foyer from the sunroom.

"Prue, no!" Piper thrust out her hands to immobilize Shax. The demon slowed down, clearly too powerful for Piper's most useful defensive power. As he fought through her magic, Piper raced to Prue's side. Her elder sister was sprawled on a pile of debris with trickles of blood running from mouth and ears. "Leo! Leo! Leo, where are you? Phoebe! Leo!"

Shax broke free of Piper's molecular immobilization power. Piper stood up and faced the roaring demon. "LEO!"

Another gust of wind erupted from Shax's left claw. The middle Halliwell slammed agonizingly through the remaining wall to land beside her unconscious older sister. Debris tumbled upon the unconscious witches.

Phoebe levitated above the first round of energy balls, somersaulted, and landed upon the attacking demon with a precisely executed scissor kick. The sound of thundering footsteps raced down the corridor toward Belthazoar's chambers. "Hey, if you guys can hear me," Phoebe said with an upward glance, "now would be a great time to develop another active power!"

She glanced over at Cole, still in human form, as he struggled to battle the other identical demon. Phoebe raced to aid her boyfriend with the martial arts skills she had honed in two years without an active magical power. The demon she had attacked recovered, grabbed her ankle, and proceeded to toss the youngest Halliwell into the wall of the chamber with the ease of lobbing a wad of paper.

Cole slammed his head into his assailant's and flung the unconscious demon to one side. "PHOEBE!" Red and black tribal markings erupted all over his tanned skin as Cole underwent the transformation from his half-human appearance to his stronger, demonic form. Anger and pain always facilitated the change, and the upper level demon felt both at the sight of his beloved Phoebe on the floor. With his amplified demonic strength, Cole began to batter the demon facing him.

Across the room, the other guard formed an energy ball and raised it over his head. He turned his head at the sound of three other guards, these with flowing dark locks and metal cuffs on their upper arms, entering the room. "Boys, I'm about to single-handedly annihilate the Charmed line," he bragged.

"I don't think so," Phoebe said. She levitated from the floor and delivered a roundhouse kick that sent the demon onto his back. The energy ball sailed into the air and landed on him, snuffing out his life instead of Phoebe's. "Leo! Leo!"

Leo was out cold. Two guards rushed Belthazoar, and grabbed his arms. The third socked him in his chiseled stomach. "Leave him alone!" Phoebe yelled. She launched herself into the air again and latched onto a stalactite hanging from the ceiling as two more energy balls seared the air where she had stood only a second prior.

"She's a pretty little witch! Too bad we have to kill her," growled one of the demons below her.

"Yeah, but let's do it quickly before the Source kills us!" The three demons restraining Cole began to murmur in what sounded like a chant over the demon. The fourth reached into his knee-high leather boots, pulled out an athame, and pressed it to Belthazoar's thick neck. "Come down here, witch!"

"Why don't you make me?" Phoebe shouted back.

With them out of the way, Shax focused his cloudy white eyes on the defenseless doctor. To the balding man's credit, he did not cower, back away, or beg for any mercy that he would not receive from the demonic hired gun. Shax was aware that the doctor's display of dignity was based less in his boldness and more in his terrified state of mind. A kill without the glory of facing a formidable opponent was without glory.

But a kill was still a kill.

A blast of gale force winds sent the surgeon spinning through the air. He crashed through the dining room, tumbled across the table, and landed inside the window. Shax's killing winds were so powerful that they wedged the doctor's body into the frame where glass had stood, with a spike of wood driven into the man's chest.

Shax gazed upon yet another successful assassination. The two witches were hardly a match for his obviously superior powers, yet he had heard they were tireless, cunning opponents. It would only be minutes before all the air in their bodies exited and they died. The doctor had even less time than that; his heartbeat was already slowing. Shax allowed himself a gloating grin before he dissolved in a bolt of lightning and exited the witches' home in a swirl of wind. He slammed the doors shut, shattering the windows in the front of the house in his wake.

Her words struck home at the demon's pride, and he flung a high-powered energy ball at the blond witch. Phoebe released the stalactites, somersaulted, and landed on the demon's head. Her plan worked perfectly as her weight and momentum combined to break the demon's neck. He vanished in a burst of flames, as Phoebe rolled away from his corpse. She rushed toward Cole but heard Leo's anguished groan from across the chamber.

If she went to Cole's aid, they could Shimmer from the Underworld, but she would still need Leo to be conscious if she was to save her sisters.

If she went to Leo's aid, they could Orb from the Underworld, take Cole, and still save her sisters.

The choice was obvious.

Phoebe ignored Belthazoar and the other demon to rush to her Whitelighter's side. "Leo?" Phoebe shook his semi-conscious form. "Come on, Leo! We have to go save Piper and Prue!"

Belthazoar suddenly broke free of his captors and telekinetically flung the Source's guard across the chamber. As Leo's eyes opened, he reflexively grabbed his aching head and saw Phoebe approach Belthazoar. "Cole? Are you okay?"

"Phoebe," the demon growled. The blonde witch grimaced, so he shifted back into Cole. "Thank you, Phoebe."

Leo sat up. "Phoebe, we've gotta go. Piper and Prue need us."

The blonde clairvoyant all but ignored him. "What are you thanking me for?"

"Thank you for making it so easy to kill you." Cole slammed an energy ball the size of a basketball into Phoebe's stomach. The blonde witch couldn't even scream before she was incinerated.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" Leo cried out. Suddenly cognizant of Cole's attention, the Whitelighter Orbed before Cole hurled an energy ball at him.

His teeth bared in anger, Cole slammed his fist into the rock wall nearest him. "Damn that Whitelighter! I wanted them _all _dead."

One of the guard rose to his feet, rubbing his sore neck. "You did well, Belthazoar. You've destroyed the Charmed Line, eliminated all your competition, and won the allegiance of the Source's guards. Even if the Whitelighter is still alive, he has nothing to live for now, while you have the Source's throne ahead of you."

Cole smiled triumphantly. It felt good to be evil again.

Leo Orbed into Halliwell Manor in the exact spot where Phoebe had summoned him in an alternate reality. His fair, angelic face was turning ruddy from crying and tears blurred his vision. But Leo clearly saw the dark-haired man kneeling beside the bodies of his wife and his sister-in-law. It could only be one being in the Halliwell Manor at a time such as this.

"No!" he yelled and shoved aside the Angel of Death. "It's not their time!"

"Don't you think I know that?" the angel retorted. He glared at Leo and rose to his feet, bristling with aggression. Before the two angels could go to blows, Prue and Piper stirred on the floor near Leo's feet.

"Piper?" the blond Whitelighter breathed.

"Leo?" Piper groaned and stared at her husband through half-lidded eyes. "What happened?"

"Yeah, where's Phoebe?" Prue asked Leo.

The dark-haired angel, obscured from the witches' view, muttered, "I have to go." He vanished in an unmistakably blue-and-white cloud of orbs not dissimilar from Leo's own.

Prue's and Piper's mouths gaped open, and Prue's eyes were suddenly moist. "W-Was that A-Andy?" Piper asked her elder sister.

"I don't know who that was," Leo interjected, helping both sisters to their feet with a yank from his brawny arms, "but we've got serious problems. Phoebe's…Phoebe is dead. Cole killed her."


	2. 4x01 Charmed Again, Part 1

**Author's Note: Although I will be writing this as a Season 4 story, I'll be borrowing liberally from elements of Season 4. Naturally, the Cole and Phoebe marriage plot is moot! And some details from Season 4 (such as Paige's boss' name or the name of the boy that the Charmed Ones helped in Lost and Bound) will not be in this story because I've forgotten some details in the last 3 years since I lost my Charmed DVDs. But naturally, this "season" will be taking a MUCH different course. **

**I'm frankly amazed at the response to the first chapter! Thanks to reviews from charmedwiccafanforever, EsmeHollyElizabeth, draupadi, and Dominus Trinus and followings from Barbarossa Rotbart, Don Flack's Angell, EsmeHollyElizabeth, TVADDIC11, charmedwiccafanforever, and , I'm SO motivated to continue with this story at a rapid pace, and apologize for the late update. There's no internet at my house for the time being. But I'm keeping up the updates because your reviews matter!**

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**Charmed Again, Part 1**

**_Four Days Later…_**

"Prue, Piper, the two of you are going to bleed yourselves to death if you keep performing this spell! You have got to stop!" Leo snatched the silver bowl and the bag of crushed herbs from Prue's hands. "Get some sleep, both of you, but especially you, Piper!"

Piper glared at her husband through tired, tear-soaked eyes. "Leo, I will get some sleep when Phoebe is home safely." Piper wiped away the tears that seemed to occur whenever she or Prue said their late younger sister's name.

"If the Elders are so concerned about our well-being, then they need to send Phoebe back." Prue defiantly snatched back the bowl and marched upstairs. Piper was hot on her heels. Determined to not let his wife or sister-in-law damage their bodies further, Leo followed closely behind Piper.

"Since They won't do that," Prue explained, "we've uncovered a foolproof way to regain the Power of Three: Say the incantation at midnight, within the Triquetra, with the two of us together."

"Prue, that won't work," Leo countered. He folded his plaid-covered arms over his chest and struck an authoritative stance. "Phoebe's funeral is tomorrow, and the two of you need to…"

Piper stopped in mid-stride on the second floor and whirled on Leo. "Need to do what, Leo? Resign ourselves to losing our sister, to losing the Power of Three, to losing our friend?"

"That's not what I was going to say. Phoebe is gone. There's nothing you can do to bring her back."

"It seems you've already resigned yourself to doing just that, Leo. Why don't you do something useful for once? Help us figure out how we can get Phoebe back."

"I can't do that. I've told you more times than I can count."

Piper didn't stop her flowing tears. She was crying from more painful reasons than just her sister's name. The painful divide Piper felt from Leo cut her as deeply as the loss of her younger sister. At first the two of them were just apart more. Then they were hardly able to stand in the same room together without frosty stares. Finally, on the eve of Phoebe's funeral, their tension had peaked. Piper just wanted him on her side.

"Then go Orb off somewhere else. Make yourself useful to someone."

Leo glared at his wife with almost palpable torture in his gentle green eyes. "Fine, but I won't be too far away to hear you if you or Prue need me." The Whitelighter disappeared in an upward shower of radiant blue-and-white lights.

Piper turned to Prue. The elder Halliwell showed obvious signs of sleep deprivation. Concealer had failed to work on the dark circles under her crystal blue eyes. Prue had pulled her silky chocolate brown hair into a ponytail that cascaded down her back with an old college sweatshirt and polka-dotted pale blue sweatpants to cover her body. Piper was sure she looked equally exhausted in her dark blue tank and pajama pants.

Despite her apparent tiredness, Prue managed to summon a scolding look. "You could afford to be a little nicer to Leo."

"It's almost midnight, Prue. Let's get this spell over with. Leo can wait until tomorrow; Phoebe can't."

Prue shrugged at her younger sister's sullen reply and dashed into the attic. She set the silver bowl in the center of the chalk Triquetra drawn on the floor earlier that night, emptied the crushed herbs into it, and took out an athame. "Remember the first time we had to do this spell? Phoebe had to prick your finger for you because you were too scared to do it."

Piper hadn't forgotten in over two years. "Yeah, she was always a renegade. I still owe her for that prick."

"She should have gone to school for phlebotomy."

"Maybe she will, when we resurrect her." The grandfather clock downstairs began to chime the hour of twelve. "Ok, ready?"

Prue pricked her left middle finger and squeezed the wound until three drops of blood dripped onto the herbs in the silver bowl. She passed the athame to Piper, who quickly pricked her left middle finger and added three drops of her blood. In synchronization, the sisters read from the book:

_"Blood of my blood, I call to thee,_

_"Blood of my blood, return to me._

_"Blood of my blood, I call to thee._

_"Bring back the Power of Three."_

* * *

At a stuffy, dimly lit office of the Greater Bay Area Social Services Department, a young woman in her early 20s was still working diligently in the wee hours of the morning. To her left, a stack of documents taller than her head waited for processing and filing. To her right, a stack of completed documents and a cup of energizing tea rested patiently. Her long, pale fingers glided over the keyboard of a computer that was a little over a year old but already running on its last legs. In her white cotton cropped top, brown peasant skirt, and white leather clogs, Paige Matthews didn't fit the look of a typical social worker, but she was definitely one of San Francisco's hardest working ones.

Well, she wasn't quite yet a social worker. But fresh out of college with two Bachelor's degrees in sociology and psychology, Paige _would _become a social worker when her boss permitted it.

Paige squinted at the screen while typing the documentation of her very first interview with a family. Two days earlier, Brian Scott was, to Paige, the name of a boy whose parents were very fond of first names. Now he was a flesh-and-blood ten year old in California's foster care system, whose father was suspected of murdering his infant sister and of abusing Brian for most of his life.

During their interview, the boy was wary and shy around Paige and shook even when she offered comforting words. Brian seemed absolutely repulsed by the idea of Paige touching him. His pale face and underfed body still hadn't recovered from his father's alleged abuses. Paige was responsible only for compiling his file so that an actual social worker who never met the boy could determine if he was to be put in his mother's care or in a foster family.

"How could a mother let her son get beaten like that? What did she do, ignore the beatings all these years?" Paige asked her monitor. She was weary from reading the reports from Brian's school, emergency room visits, and even the police who had taken Brian's father into custody. "This kid is lucky to be alive. He doesn't deserve that cruel bastard or his stupid mother."

Paige rubbed her eyes and reached for her energizing tea, but her long, pale fingers instead brushed the crisp surface of newsprint. Paige grabbed that morning's paper and brought it to her eyes. She welcomed a distraction from the tragic records of Brian Scott's life, but the paper was opened to the obituaries. "Phoebe Halliwell, born nineteen seventy-five, died two thousand one….Services tomorrow at Saint Francis Chapel?"

Paige racked her memory for a Phoebe Halliwell and found a blonde girl with a permanently cheerful, helpful personality. They had upper level psychology courses together. Paige had attended Phoebe's graduation party at a club only a month ago, rather than having her own. Memorably enough, Phoebe had been generous enough to hang with Paige and Dana, her co-worker and best friend, on a non-alcoholic girls' night out a week after her party. But the blonde was noticeably less bubbly that night. It was something to do with her boyfriend, Paige was sure.

"I saw her only a few days before she passed away." Paige noted that the funeral was to be held at eleven in the morning. After the half-shift she had worked and the troubling case of Brian Scott with which she was dealing, surely her boss Mr. Davis would not begrudge her some time off.

Paige pulled out a pad of fluorescent Post-It notes from her desk and wrote a note for her boss. After saving the document, she shut down her computer, polished off her tea, and stuck the Post-It to Mr. Davis' office before she grabbed her jacket, purse, and teacup, and Paige left.

* * *

The Oracle blinked her eyes as the crystal ball resumed its normal milky-white appearance. She had intended only to see the Source's greatest threat. Of course, the luminescent orb never lied about what it revealed. The remaining Charmed Ones had cast a spell to reconstitute their Triquetra. Magic had discovered a fourth in the latest generation of the Warren line, born from the same womb as the Halliwells but…different.

Yet the blue-eyed she-demon could not discern _how_ or _why_ the new witch was different. And different could be dangerous.

She briefly considered contacting the Seer. That was a snare for danger. The Seer was far more powerful than the Oracle, and if given the chance, the Seer could usurp the Oracle's sway over the current Source. He was the only reason she had not yet been slain by demonic hordes.

The Oracle rose from her lounge in a chamber off the Source's main chamber. She removed her gauzy, bejeweled gown to reveal a body enviable by any mortal supermodel, perfect by the standards of the Source's lustful, grubby hands. The she-demon padded from her solitary room in the Source's sprawling complex of chambers into the demon's main chamber.

Few demons were permitted to enter this room because it was where the Source of All Evil ate, plotted, and slept. As the Oracle's voluptuous body strode into the main chamber, the Source's gaze immediately came to rest upon her and he sneered lustfully. Her one advantage over the Seer was her unflinching willingness to let the Source's scabbed hands linger over her body and devour her in his flames.

* * *

**_The Next Day.._**

As far as Piper was concerned, there was no sense of justice on the day of Phoebe's funeral.

For one thing, the weather was cloudy but balmy. There was an 80% chance of rain but it never came. Uncharacteristically hot, humid San Francisco forced the grieving friends and family to sweat in their black clothes.

The funeral itself was a sham. Phoebe had gone to Saint Francis her entire life; even in her rebellious years, the youngest Halliwell could not be deterred from the reverent observance of the Eucharist. The priest who presided over the ceremony had even baptized Phoebe as a babe, but the eulogy he gave was without intimacy. He described her with banal compliments such as "kind-hearted," "generous," and "bright."

_'He didn't know about Phoebe's fierce sense of loyalty or the dedication with which she trained to fight demons without an active power. Did he know Phoebe was quick to get angry, quick to forgive, but also stubborn?'_ Piper thought during the eulogy.

The final affront was the urn. After only a few minutes of aggrieved crying, Prue had ordered Leo to Orb to the Underworld and reclaim Phoebe's ashes. It took him a half-day and the pile that he brought back was disappointingly small. "Belthazoar claimed some as a trophy," Leo said tearfully. "This is what was left."

On Piper's left, Prue stoically faced the urn, as though a single tear would shatter her face and perfectly maintained façade. Leo held Piper's hand on the right. Piper scowled through her tears. When the end of the service came and many of the guests left, Piper felt a sense of reprieve. She wanted to leave the funeral as soon as possible, go home, and change into something black and fearless.

She had a score to settle and a demon to kill.

But she still had to greet the devoted few mourners who lined up to bestow their condolences upon the Halliwell sisters.

After the tenth guy from one of Phoebe's psychology classes shook Piper's hand and muttered about how hot her late sister was, Piper glanced at Prue on her left. Her elder sister had drawn up her hair into a stern bun more characteristic of their grandmother than of Prue. "If one more college aged doofus calls Phoebe hot, I'll blow him up," Piper joked.

Prue did not smile. _'She's taking Phoebe's death harder than Leo or me, probably because Prue spent months warning Phoebe that Cole was a demon. And when Phoebe didn't listen, Prue just wanted to be at peace with Phoebe. She let her be headstrong, head-over-heels in love, and…'_ Piper focused on greeting an elderly neighbor who had been one of Phoebe's college professors, but kept her eye on Prue. The elder Halliwell just nodded and shook the hands of the mourners who approached her.

Prue did not notice the slightly pale woman with long dark locks who came at the end of the line. Piper did and motioned the woman to her, as the elderly college professor walked off. She stared, puzzled, as the woman extended a hand.

"Hi, I'm…I'm Paige. I-I don't know if Phoebe….I'm sorry for your loss."

Piper sniffled and dabbed her eyes. The resemblance was startling: Paige had the same wide, gorgeous eyes as Phoebe and something about her posture portrayed the same uncertain sense of self-confidence as Phoebe. "Thank you. You look familiar."

"I used to hang out with Phoebe a lot at P3."

"That's my club. I mean, it's our club. Well…" Piper's voice trailed off. Phoebe's death made everything difficult, even promoting P3.

Paige glanced behind her. "It's ok. I've been here. I mean, there. Where you are, I've been there…" Paige smiled at her awkward choice of words. "My parents were killed when I was still in high school."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Our Grams died a few years back, and our Mom died when we were little girls. It was basically just me and my two sisters growing up."

"Death sucks."

Something about Paige made it seem like Phoebe had simply entered a new body, rather than dying. Perhaps grief had driven Piper crazy; she reached into her black Gucci purse and pulled out a business card from its neat silver case. "Maybe we can get some coffee later and just chit chat?"

"I'd like that," Paige replied.

* * *

Belthazoar strode into the Source's presence chamber, clothed in black ceremonial robes and black leather knee-high boots. Two of the Source's guard flanked him in their studded leather armor and studded leather boots. Before Belthazoar could storm boldly into the Source's main chamber, a wall of flames erupted from the floor of the stonework and cut off his path.

The Source, wrapped in a red shroud, appeared on the other side of the flames in a burst of fire as well. As usual, he kept his demonic face concealed. With his scabbed hands crossed over his sword, Soulslayer, and his great dark wings unfolded behind him, the Source intended his appearance to terrify those below him.

His guards trembled visibly. Belthazoar knelt deferentially but did not tremble. "My liege," he said with lowered eyes.

"Why do you come to me, Belthazoar?" the Source demanded.

"My liege, I heard that a third Charmed One has been found. I wish to be employed in making the troublesome witches extinct."

The Source's hooded face studied his two guards. "And you, what have you come here for?"

"We wish to be employed in killing the witches as well," said one of the hairy guards.

The Source chuckled in a cold, sinister voice. "I have a loyal demon to dispatch on such errands. Shax has gone to the surface and will soon rid the world of their meddlesome presence. You may have killed the first witch, Belthazoar, but Shax will finish them off." With that, the Source vanished. The loathing in his tone could not be missed, but Belthazoar wasn't certain if that loathing was for him or for the Charmed Ones.

* * *

A too-familiar shiver ran down Prue's spine. "Piper, I think your new friend needs to go," Prue interrupted coldly.

"Excuse me?" Paige demanded. She put one hand on her hip and cocked an eyebrow.

"Let me handle this." Piper turned to Prue. Her older sister had turned shockingly pale. "Prue, what's the matter?"

"I just felt a _chill_." Prue's blue eyes meaningfully cut into Piper.

Paige looked around the church. "Maybe they turned the AC on?"

"No," Piper said, without breaking Prue's gaze. There was too much meaning in her stare. "I think it's something more than that." She turned to Paige, wishing Phoebe were still there because the youngest Halliwell was also the most adept at lying. "My sister is diabetic, so she suffers from chills and dizziness from time to time."

"Oh, let me…"

"No!" Paige jerked back, frightened by Piper's outburst. "I mean, no, I'll get her to the car myself, get some ice cream, some doughnuts, and we'll be fine."

"But I thought…?"

"Seriously," Piper affirmed, "we're fine."

Paige shrugged and stormed down the marble floored aisle toward the church's doors. Before she reached the doors leading to the vestibule, a cyclone swirled into the church and blocked the exit. The cyclone became a demon with skin and robes the color of a storm-wracked sky. Paige gasped in fear and dropped her purse.

"No!" Prue screamed and sprinted down the long aisle toward the young woman. Piper was hot on her heels, desperately raising her hands to immobilize Shax with her powers. But they were too late. Shax wound back his arm and unleashed a blast of his killing wind.


	3. 4x02 Charmed Again, Part 2

**Author's Note: Thanks to new followers Alice 404, AvrilRP212 and Twin Masks and reviews from lizardmomma and Dominus Trinus, I'm posting another chapter only three days after the second one! You guys rock. I don't think I've had this much attention to a story in a while. Trust me, I'm writing feverishly here and needed to post this before I go out of town this weekend. Please continue to review!**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Charmed Again, Part 2**

Paige cowered against the attack. In the face of certain death, who wouldn't?

Unlike most people, Paige vanished in a swirl of luminescent blue-and-white Orbs before the Shax's attack struck her. The Orbs were identical to every Whitelighter Prue had ever seen, including Leo.

The killing wind traveled past Paige and would have blasted Prue and Piper. But the elder Halliwell deflected the blast of wind with her telekinesis from her upraised right hand. Shax's power, magnified by Prue's anger-fueled telekinesis, slammed into the demon and knocked him backwards a few feet across the marble floor of the church.

Paige reappeared and the demon pushed himself to his feet. Before Shax could retaliate, Piper ran to flank Paige on her right. Prue covered the confused young woman's left. She could not lose another Innocent, no matter what. Prue didn't have to use her power again. Piper yelled "Blow this!" and used her new Combustion power to eliminate Shax in a wisp of blue wind.

"Wh-what the hell just happened?" Paige demanded breathlessly.

"Now is not the time or place to explain," Prue responded urgently. Even if Paige was a Whitelighter, she was an Innocent because Prue could tell from her confused expression that something magical was to blame. And she had come within seconds of losing another Innocent, at Phoebe's funeral no less. Grief did not stop Prue's responsibility to protect the Innocents. "I think you should come to our house for that cup of coffee Piper mentioned?"

"Weren't you just trying to get rid of me two minutes ago?" Paige challenged.

Prue steadied herself. Helping to raise two younger sisters had given her a short fuse on patience but Prue knew how to control her anger. "Two minutes ago, something hadn't tried to kill you yet."

"Uh, Prue?" Piper reached across Paige to shake Prue's black silk blouse sleeve, "I don't think that's such a good idea, considering what happened the last time?"

"This is different. You saw what she just did."

Paige pulled free of the sisters. "Hold on. Who said I even want to go anywhere with you?"

Piper put her hands on her hips. Before her younger sister could say something indignant that they would both regret, Prue took Paige's hands in her own. Her brief time as an empathy hopefully had trained her in some way. "Sweetie, something almost killed you, and I know you're scared. You probably have fifteen million questions right now. But if you trust us, we can answer them, and keep you safe, too."

Paige's expression softened. "Fine, I'll come with you."

Belthazoar stormed into his chambers and slammed his fist into a wall of solid rock. It crumbled under the mottled red-and-black flesh without resistance and left not a sign of damage on him. Yet the demon roared. "Shax's glory against the Charmed Ones ought to be mine! **_I_** am the feared Witchslayer! I have slain dozens of witches in only one century! What is Shax compared to me?"

"He is the Source's assassin and leader of his trusted guard, while you Belthazoar threaten the Source's position." Belthazoar whirled around, an energy ball awakened in his hand, to face the owner of the voice. A dark skinned demon with exotically dreadlocked brown hair tumbling around her earnest face stood alone in the center of his chambers. She would have been unremarkable with her modest red robes draped over her body if not for her entirely smoky grey eyes.

"The Seer," Belthazoar hissed. "Why are you here?"

"The Source hears other demons acclaim you more where once he was hailed. Yet he does not seek my council but that of the Oracle, who warms his cold bed in hopes of conceiving his heir."

"Does the Source then fear me, Seer?"

She nodded grimly and only once. "With good reason, he fears you. His most powerful enemies have been exiled or vanquished. You gain what he craves in these uncertain times."

"And what is that? Power?"

"He craves respect. With me at your side, Belthazoar, you could make the decisions he has forgotten to make."

Belthazoar narrowed his black eyes and bared his jagged yellow teeth but extinguished the energy ball in his hand. "And I suppose you would want to warm **_my_** bed?"

"Never," the Seer spat. "I have served five Sources with my far-reaching powers before this one, and I have never abased myself in that way. I will not be a concubine."

"Then what is it that you seek?"

The Seer smirked. "When the time is right, you will know."

* * *

The Oracle tossed back the silk beddsheets and rose naked from the Source's bed. She could feel his lascivious, insatiable eyes locked on her skin, bronzed by the firelight and glistening from their passionate coupling. To his pleasure, she bent and retrieved her gown from the floor. She shimmied into it. "What do you intend to do about the Charmed Ones, my liege?"

She heard the Source groan with exasperation. "What would you have me do with her, Oracle? I've already sent Shax to assassinate the witch."

"I fear Shax may not be enough for what lies ahead."

The Source sat upright on the bed behind her. "If I understand you correctly, Oracle, you believe my judgment is in error?"

"That's not…" Suddenly the Oracle telekinetically slammed against the far side of the chamber. Her body was forced to turn and face the Source sitting on the edge of his bed. One hand pinned her to the wall, while the other held a fireball. "My lord!" she gasped. "Please, listen to me!"

"Choose your words carefully, Oracle."

"I sense the coming of a great power. One that is neither good nor evil, yet it's powers will be devastating. It will be shaped by the hand that raises it."

"Does it pose a threat to me?"

The Oracle swallowed. She already had exaggerated the truth by claiming to see its powers. What harm could there be in one more exaggeration? "If it is good, it will eclipse the Charmed Ones. If it is evil, it would eclipse you."

The fireball slowly floated from the Source's claw to hover over the Oracle's face. She winced at the feeling of its searing heat on her pretty, delicate face. "You will uncover what this great power is and where it comes from. Good or evil, I will stop it. Just as I will stop the Charmed Ones."

* * *

"Please excuse the disorder in here," Piper warned as she unlocked the front door. "The police just cleared us as crime scene the night before last and we haven't…." Her voice trailed off when she pushed the door open.

Even with the boarded up dining room window and the broken wall covered by a plastic tarp, Paige was enchanted immediately by the classic, Victorian era elegance of Halliwell Manor. The living room lacked any touch of modernity, except for the TV in one corner. A horticulturist had a hand in the blooming bougainvillea in the outside window box and in the ferns beneath the windowsill. Prue studied Paige's reaction. "Is this where…I mean, how…Phoebe…died?"

"No, it was…complicated," Piper supplied.

"We think it was her ex-boyfriend." Prue bit her lower lip. _'If Phoebe had been here, she could have come up with a much better lie. Then again, if Phoebe were here, we wouldn't be saving this lady.' _"Do you feel alright?"

"Not exactly," Paige replied, grimacing. "I don't even know the two of you, but I come into a house where someone died? This was stupid of me. I should have." Paige stormed toward the door.

With a flick of her index finger, Prue shut and locked it. She was tired of losing people. Her mom, Andy, her sister, the Innocents killed by demons and warlock…She would not give Shax another victim; she would fix her problems to save the people she was meant to save. "You're not going anywhere."

"What the….You can't keep me here, lady. I'll call the cops."

"Really? How about you get the cops to protect you from the blue guy then? Good luck with that," Piper said with folded arms.

"Just who the hell do you think you are?"

"We're trying to save your life! We know what we're up against, and you don't! So either you sit down and listen, or else deal with big blue demon alone!" Prue set her face into her take-no-prisoners expression.

Paige frowned but obeyed. "Did you just say 'blue demon?'"

"Yes." Piper sighed but Prue ignored her. "The blue guy who attacked you was a demon."

"If he's a demon, what does that make you two? Angels?"

"No, we're witches. And you're a Whitelighter."

Paige's frown turned into an expression of confusion. "I'm a what?"

"Look, you Orbed, and…."

"Prue?" Piper asked in the meek voice she reserved for the three seconds before she lost all patience. "Could I speak to you for just a moment, sweetie?" She jerked her head toward the sunroom.

"Sure." As Prue walked ahead of her, Piper flicked her right hand at Paige in an unmistakable effort to freeze her. "Why did you freeze her if we're going to talk in the sunroom?"

"Because it can't hurt to be safe; I don't want her to hear."

"Hear what?" Paige's question caused Piper to jump. A lamp exploded when Piper's hands flew open in alarm.

"Y-You didn't freeze!" Piper exclaimed.

"I didn't do what?"

"You didn't freeze! You're supposed to freeze when my hands go like," Piper mimicked her freezing gesture, "and you didn't. What the h- kind of Whitelighter are you?"

"She can't be a Whitelighter, and she's not a demon," Prue whispered.

"Don't tell me you think she's a good witch?"

"Wait, I'm sorry, you think **_I'm_** a witch?" Paige's mouth hung open.

Prue quickly considered how this young woman must have felt. 45 minutes ago, she was just attending a funeral for a friend. Now she was being accused of something she didn't understand. It would have given Prue a headache, and it had three years ago when Phoebe first insisted they were witches. The memory of their argument in the pharmacy, when Prue's latent telekinesis had caused the shelves of over-the-counter medications to crash, brought a pang of guilt to Prue's chest and a watering to her eyes.

"Actually," Prue said slowly, "we don't know for sure what you are. We're-"she gestured to herself and Piper "—good witches. We have magic powers, like you saw earlier. We do good things. We help people. If you weren't a good witch, Piper would have been able to freeze you."

"Oookaayyyy. You people are officially crazy. I'm out of here, and if you try to stop me again, it's kidnapping." Paige put her purse on her shoulder and walked toward the door.

"Good going, Prue," Piper chided.

The elder Halliwell ran for the door. "Where are you going? You rode here in **_my_** car."

"I'll call a cab." Paige reached for the front doorknob, but her hand was interrupted by a shower of Orbs that coalesced into Leo, blocking her way. Paige backed up, despite the blond's kind disposition and quickly stumbled to the floor on her backside. Prue had to give her some credit; at least she didn't faint. "Who-who…What?"

"Leo, what the hell are you thinking?" Piper practically shrieked. "We have an Innocent in the house and you just Orb in? Did you even Sense if someone else was here?"

Prue ignored her frustrated sister. Piper had wanted a life free of magic since the day they gained their magical heritage. But the rules had changed with their sister's death; if not long before that when a warlock stabbed an Innocent in a café while the Charmed Ones idly watched.

That woman had a baby girl, eight months old, and a husband. Prue had read her obituary and attended the funeral.

"Yes, Piper, I did," Leo said through gritted teeth. He helped Paige to her feet. "She needed to see me Orb in, or else she would have been lost to you forever. The Elders are frantic about her."

"Why?" Piper demanded.

"Because they think she's your sister. Another Charmed One."

* * *

The scene dissolved into milky white clouds before the Source's hooded face. He yelled in his rage and launched a fireball across the chamber. It was so powerful that the whole room shook with the force of the impact. The Oracle recoiled at the sight of the Source's anger. "Damn them! How could this happen? Now that she **_knows_** she is a witch, she'll bond with her sisters and close the Charmed circle once more!"

"My lord," the Oracle said seductively, "the Charmed Ones are not invulnerable. Even now, their magic has not yet been reconstituted. You have killed one before, surely…"

"You would have me send Belthazoar again to kill the third witch and break their line. **_He_** was the one who killed the youngest and he has not let me forget it. Belthazoar reeks of ambition. I wonder what he's plotting."

The Source had not yet asked the Oracle to examine the future for Belthazoar's plans, but if he did, the Source would know her shortcoming and probably kill her. "Perhaps you could send Shax."

"Shax has failed me twice in one week, Oracle. And now he is wounded. My list of loyal demons grows shorter by the day."

"My lord, let Shax have one more attempt at glory. If he should fail, perhaps then you should best handle the matter on your own."

"Go to the Surface and kill the witches myself?"

"Certainly if Belthazoar kills one, you are much stronger. All of demondom will swear allegiance to you again when you kill the Charmed Ones, singlehandedly, if Shax fails. Whatever designs Belthazoar may have would be voided." She leaned forward and sensed his lustful gaze roaming her barely clad body. "I believe mortals call it, 'Killing two birds with one stone.'"

Beneath his hooded robe, the Source smiled.


	4. 4x03 Charmed Again, Part 3

**Author's Note: Thanks to Dominus Trinus, lizardmomma, Daicy, CharmedLips, ObsessedwReading, EsmeHollyElizabeth, and draupadi for the new reviews. And thanks to Jay Warren, CharmedLips, Daicy, Feruze, and SuperBadKitty37 for following this story. I am amazed at the interest this story is generating. When I say I am writing at a faster pace than ever before, I am not lying or exaggerating. As I post this, I've had a two hour nap and my internet at home is still wonky. **

**Just so everyone knows, this ends the first three episodes of Season 4 and this is the conclusion of "Charmed Again." I hope you guys all love the upcoming chapter as much as you all seemed to love the first three chapters. Please continue to review and follow to spur this story on.**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Charmed Again, Part 3**

Piper stormed upstairs before Prue or Leo could stop her. Paige followed. She had nowhere else to go, and no one had answered her question. The Halliwell sisters were crazy, but Leo _had_ appeared from thin air. And Paige had known she was adopted since she was a small girl. It was worth the risk to follow the Halliwell sisters and confirm if she was related to her recently departed friend Phoebe. After all, Phoebe's funeral was the most eventful one she had attended.

"Where are you going, Piper?" Prue asked as they ran up the stairs to the attic.

Paige envied Piper's storming off. While she was breathless just from running to the second floor, Piper was setting a brisk pace and not even sweating. _'I've got to start using my gym membership.'_

"The Elders think she's our sister? Well, I'm going to find out for sure!"

Piper shoved the door to the Halliwells' attic open and stomped toward an antique chest. Paige gazed around the room at the collection of years' of memorabilia. Antique furniture lined the walls; used-up toys and trinkets, an antique but well-maintained dollhouse, and mirrors cluttered almost all the available space. Part of Paige wished she hadn't discarded most of her stuff after the accident.

"What are you planning to do?" Leo wondered. Piper ignored him, took out five white candles from the chest, and arranged them in a circle on the floor. She lit them with a lighter from the same antique chest as the candles, grabbed Prue's hand, and dragged the elder Halliwell to a well-loved book rested atop an ornately carved stand.

Paige, apprehensive, wandered to Leo's side. "What's this? Some sort of spell?" Leo didn't respond because Piper began chanting:

"Hear these words, hear my cry

"Spirit from the other side.

"Come to me, I summon thee,

"Cross now the great divide."

A swirl of radiant yellow lights appeared in the center of the candles. Paige gasped as the light unveiled an older woman in a periwinkle linen dress that flattered her matronly figure, a chestnut colored wig, and a ton of accenting jewelry. "Hello, girls." She smiled at Prue and Piper then glanced at Paige. "Piper, Prue, what is the meaning of this?"

"We've got questions, Grams, and you've got answers," Piper responded.

* * *

In a police precinct only four blocks from Halliwell Manor, Lieutenant David Rodriguez massaged his temples. Phone incessantly rang outside his office. He had read over seventy reports in 36 hours. And he could no longer get to sleep. All this had resulted in a massive headache. Goody's Powder hadn't worked for him, and Rodriguez doubted anything would.

The dark-skinned second generation Mexican Ameircan had been dedicated to studying every case from the previous three years that involved the name Halliwell. Lieutenant headed up the Special Cases Unit for the Greater Bay Area and normally processed relatively run-of-the-mill crimes. Unsolved cases, open child abductions, and the occasional incident of occult activity crossed his desk all day long. In thirteen years with the force, Lieutenant Rodriguez had turned down further promotion to focus on the one area.

Lieutenant Rodriguez had never seen cases like the Hallliwell's.

Some were mundane: A noise complaint from earlier in the year; Phoebe Halliwell's name as a potential witness to the murder of a young woman; and two citations for drunk and disorderly contact with the police at Piper's club earlier that year.

Others were admirable: The Halliwells had helped a young man's family properly bury his misidentified and murdered corpse two years earlier; in the same year, they had assisted in the discovery of two fraudulent auction house owners; an internationally renowned assassin had been detoured thanks to an investigation using the Halliwell home a year ago; the last remaining male in one of San Francisco's most prominent families had been rediscovered through an investigation that used Halliwell Manor; and a missing persons case had gotten closed around Christmas when the young man was reunited with his mother.

Most were gruesome. A serial killer used an online dating service to horribly slaughter half a dozen men and a police detective, and Prudence Halliwell was listed as a client of the service. Last year, a crime spree through the city had begun and ended at a theater frequented by Phoebe Halliwell. A criminal named Bane Jessup had escaped police custody, killed two prison guards, and kidnapped Prudence before turning himself in. Only the year prior, a lunatic had killed four people with the last name Halliwell in order of appearance in the phone book, which made the sisters a target.

Rodriguez's verdict on the sisters was solidified on the most appalling investigations. Two years ago, Andy Trudeau, who was once romantically linked to Prudence, was murdered in the sisters' house. Mysterious scorch marks had appeared on his body. And lastly, a week before Rodriguez's investigation had begun: A prominent surgeon and Phoebe Halliwell were found brutally slain in the Halliwells' home.

He was baffled by many facts of the case. The most conspicuous of these was the matter of eyewitness testimony. Prudence, Piper, and Piper's husband Leo claimed to have seen nothing the day of the attack. But their neighbors had seen all three sisters arrive at the house with Dr. Griffiths and usher him into the house. Further, doctors, nurses, orderlies, and hospital security cameras placed the sisters leaving from Bay Area General with Dr. Griffiths before he prepped for surgery that morning. But neither of the surviving Halliwells had seen him or their sister die?

_'Something isn't right about the Halliwell sisters. Whatever it is, I'm determined to get to the bottom of it and stop it.'_

* * *

"Questions about what? And who is this stranger anyway?" Grams demanded. Her ghostly hands flew to her ghostly hips.

Paige scoffed. She had been prepared to accept the presence of a ghost, but the ghost had just insulted her. It was time to leave the nutty farm. "My name's Paige, and I…" Her voice trailed off when the ghost's right hand flew to her mouth to stifle an astonished gasp. Grams lowered her hand too late to avoid everyone's attention. "What?"

"Nothing," the ghost set quickly. "I just…I had to yawn."

Piper, Prue and Paige all put their hands on their hips simultaneously. "Grams, you were a lousy liar when you were alive. Now that you're see-through, you've even worse at it," Piper admonished.

"Tell us what's really going on, Grams," Prue demanded.

Paige shook her head and threw up her hands in surrender. "You know what? I give up. I went to sleep sometime last night, and I just woke up in the middle of a friggin' nightmare."

She strode toward the attic door, but it shut before she could make it. "You're not going anywhere until we know who or what you are," Prue said in a cold voice.

"I've told you before, if you keep me held here, I would call the police!" Paige yelled.

"And I've already told _you_, you can't leave." Prue stomped across the room into Paige's face, causing the younger woman to back into the door. "There is a demon after you! Are you so insane that you're trying to die?"

"She's right," Grams added. "You can't leave, Paige. We need you here."

Paige sidestepped Prue and glared at the ghost. "Who says you need me here?"

"I-I can't say."

"Why not?" all three women asked at once.

"Because I asked her not to," responded a distant female voice. Prue and Piper gasped at the sound. Paige noticed that Leo's furrowed brow grew deeper.

A swirl of iridescent white lights appeared at Grams' side. They dissolved to reveal another spectral woman. Her flowing brown locks framed a kind, warm face. Paige saw a similarity in the new ghost's eyes and Prue's; the ghost had high cheekbones, dark eyes, and a hesitant way of smiling just like Paige. It was more than a gut feeling. Something as natural as Paige's milky white skin recognized the ghost in front of her. "Mom?"

The woman nodded wistfully. "Yes, Paige. I'm your mother."

"Great!" Piper threw up her hands in exasperation. "We lose one sister, and we gain another on the same day?"

Paige winced but steeled her shoulders. If Piper Halliwell was going to be her enemy, Paige resolved not to shrink back. She already knew Prue didn't like her. "I didn't ask for this."

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask to lose my little sister, but at least she came with a replacement."

"Piper! That is enough!" Grams snapped. "I raised you better than to behave like a Blob Demon."

"Grams, you also raised me to believe I wasn't a witch; that Dad was a good for nothing who abandoned us; and that I only had two sisters. A lot of that has gotten debunked in the last three years, and now I'm playing catch up with my entire life!"

Paige felt a modicum of comfort that Piper wasn't frustrated with her at least. She turned to Grams. "Piper, your mother and I were just trying to protect you as best as we could. I'm sorry that giving you a childhood meant you had to be far behind on the truth."

Piper folded her arms and shook her head. Apparently, stubbornness was an inherited family trait as well. "Exactly how did this happen?"

* * *

Lieutenant Rodriguez turned off the light over his desk, grabbed his phone and keys and strolled out his office to the main floor of the police precinct. This was the area where officers were highly charged with tension. Criminals were processed on the main floor, and the secured exits were at the ends of every hallway. Phone calls were still coming in, even as late as it was. Yet Lieutenant Rodriguez walked confidently among the officers and repelled the detainees with a discernible sense of disdain as he approached the exit elevators to underground parking.

The sound of running footsteps compelled Rodriguez to turn around. He identified the footsteps as faux Italian leather loafers with Oxford heels, a bargain compared to the real thing but not inexpensive, even before Rodriguez saw Detective Daryl Morris approaching.

Detective Morris was a 6'5" Black man with café-au-lait skin; he was built like a linebacker for the 49ers. Lieutenant Rodriguez knew Detective Morris to be a well-respected officer and a doting family man, the kind of friend anyone on the force could rely upon. There was only one thing that struck Lieutenant Rodriguez as a flaw: In almost every case involving the Halliwells, Detective Morris was named as the investigating officer.

"Detective Morris, how are you this evening?" Rodriguez asked politely. He personally believed it was pointless to dislike someone and blatantly ignore civilities.

"I'm doing alright." Morris wasn't even out of breath from running. "How are you? How's your daughter?"

Lieutenant Rodriguez narrowed his eyes at Detective Morris. Everyone on the force had to have heard about the messy divorce he was undergoing. After thirteen years of marriage, Rodriguez's wife had left him for a second-string pro football player in Seattle. Rodriguez saw his daughter three times per year. "I'm doing well. Can I do something for you, Morris?"

"Uh, yeah: I heard you were investigating the Halliwells, the sisters who live at 1429 Prescott Street?"

"I have to." Rodriguez affected a dutiful but reluctant shrug. "A prominent doctor was killed at their residence and so was the youngest sister, Phoebe. IA has questions."

The elevator chimed its arrival. Rodriguez stepped in, but Morris held the doors open with a wave of his brawny, Mens Warehouse clad arm. "I just wanted to know if I could help in any way. Prue Halliwell used to date my partner, Andy Trudeau, before he died. We're still close."

Rodriguez studied Morris' face. The husky Black man affected the right grief when he mentioned Trudeau, but Lieutenant Rodriguez also observed the subtle shift of his eyes that usually betrayed anyone who lied. The shift happened when Morris stated that Trudeau had "died."

Both men knew the truth ran deeper than that.

"Thanks, Morris. I'll let you know if I need your assistance. He pressed the down button. "If you'll excuse me, I need to go." Lieutenant Rodriguez stared at Morris until the lower-ranked officer backed away.

* * *

Patty wringed her hands together and turned down the corners of her mouth, the same way Piage did when she was nervous and emotional. "After your father and I split up, Sam and I began a…relationship. It was completely clandestine, of course, and forbidden by the Elders."

"Who's Sam?" Paige asked.

"He was my Whitelighter."

"And it was not a relationship!" Grams scoffed. "You and Sam were constantly humping each other like rabbits! I couldn't walk through my own house without having to use magic to pull you two apart."

"Sounds like the apple didn't fall far from the forbidden tree." Prue nudged Piper with her elbow.

"When I got pregnant, Piper and Phoebe thought I was just fat. Prue…well, we had to erase your memory again when Paige was born."

"No wonder you can't remember the seventies, Prue." Piper elbowed the elder Halliwell this time.

"Why wasn't I raised with my sisters? Why did you give me away for adoption?" Years of frustration boiled inside Paige's heart and erupted to the surface. "I wasn't good enough for you? Do you know how hard life was for me growing up?"

Patty's face frowned with disappointment. "Paige, I never meant to hurt you. We couldn't keep a fourth daughter. Sam and I weren't even supposed to be involved. We _had_ to take you to a church and give you away."

"It was my idea," Grams added. "Patty thought with her heart instead of her head…"

"Mother!"

"I would apologize, dear, but it's the truth. Anyway, after she delivered the baby—sorry, Paige—here in the Manor, I told her and Sam to get you to the church. The Elders were constantly watching. Who knows what they were going to do?"

When Grams put it that way, Paige understood the wisdom behind the decision. The Elders sounded like a threat to her existence when she was merely an infant, and as a grown woman, they had identified her as the fourth sister. Paige probably wouldn't join their fan club anytime soon.

Before she could say as much, the attic door exploded in a gust of wind. Paige tumbled backwards from the blast, which extinguished the candles Piper had placed on the floor. The ghosts of Penny and Patty Halliwell disappeared as Shax materialized. He launched another gust of wind at Leo, and the Whitelighter crashed into the ceiling on the other side of the attic.

"Leo!" Paige was certain her death was imminent as the demon wound back his arm. She felt like Sarah Connor in _Terminator 2: Judgment Day_, when Sarah had scrambled backward from the Terminator in John's control. Paige could feel the power building all around him.

Then something large, heavy, and metallic slammed into the side of the demon's head. Shax stumbled backward.

Paige glanced at the remnants of a scorched sewing machine on the floor beside the demon and looked around. Over her shoulder, Prue glared at the demon with her hand still raised. "Thanks for that!"

Piper reached for Paige. "Come on! We've got to stop him!"

Paige took the woman's—no, her sister's—hand and joined Prue beside the aged book. "There's only one way to stop this demon," Prue warned as Shax steadied himself, "and that's with the Power of Three. Three sister witches untied as one. Can we do that?"

She stopped on a page in the book with an illustration of Shax and offered Paige her hand. Piper already held Prue's right hand. In the scarce second that Paige hesitated to take Prue's hand, Shax wound back his arm again. Piper's free hand shot out and the demon's movements slowed to a crawl.

_'They aren't trying to protect my life because they're my neighbors or just good people. Prue and Piper want to protect me because they're my sisters.'_ "Ok." Paige took Prue's hand.

A warm golden light radiated from the attic's overhead light. The three sisters and the book were bathed in it. It filled Paige with a sense of security, love, and goodness. For the first time that day, Paige's heart was racing with fear.

Prue led the chant:

"Evil wind that blows

"Formed from Deep Below;

"Here you may not dwell,

"Death takes you with this spell."

Shax held his hands to the sky, his face contorted with agony. Paige flinched at the sight of golden lightning coursing up his body, his bellow of pain, and finally at the floor-shaking explosion of his body. If he hadn't tried to kill her, Paige would have pitied him. "Did we just kill him?"

"We prefer the term 'vanquish.' They're not human, after all," Piper responded. She crossed the floor to Leo's side and stroked her husband's blond hair.

"Is he alright, or is he…?"

Piper hoisted her husband to his feet. Paige was relieved to hear Leo's dazed groans. "Leo's alive, or at least as alive as Whitelighters get. That's a long story." To Leo, she said, "Alright, hero, let's go get you a cup of tea."

"We could discuss it over a cup of tea tonight, if you have the time," Prue offered.

Paige observed the hopeful gleam in Prue's eyes, the openness of her stance, and the anxious way she bit her lip. Paige had seen kids, the ones who were hurt the most but still yearned for affection, project the same look. "Sure, I'd like that."

* * *

The Oracle stroked the cloudy crystal ball resting in front of her glowing green eyes. She only had a few moments before the Source returned from his meeting with a council of powerful demons. Precious seconds were ticking away while the forces of magic attempted to deny her access to the unknown future. "I need to see the great power to come!" she yelled at the orb. "Show it to me! Show it to me now!"

Gradually the swirling mists parted. A pair of eyes, followed by a face, and a legion of followers appeared in the Oracle's crystal ball. She leaned closer to the gleaming surface of the ball and seductively stroked its surface. The Oracle gasped at the other faces flanking the first on either side. "NO! It can't be!"


	5. 4x04 Hell Hath No Fury (Part 1)

**Author's Note: Thanks to ray1, DarkHinata91, MaileS, and Moon Goddesss for the latest followings. And thanks to wiccancharmedjournals, lizardmomma, and draupadi for your reviews. You are all awesome because every time I log into FF, this story is just growing. I really appreciate the time you take to read and commit to this story. **

**My goal for the remaining of this story/season is to make each chapter like an episode of the show. That means there will be very long chapters ahead! Please bear with me, as I promise to put my best into making each episode as thorough and engaging as possible. I've been tangled up lately playing GTA V (which is awesome), but I'm writing as quickly as I can. Continue to review because your reviews keep me writing every week!**

* * *

**Three Days Later…**

Prue sprinted into the parking garage in San Francisco's Financial District as quickly as she could in her jeans and clogs. Her mid-back length brown hair billowed behind her while Prue's feet clopped on the concrete pavement. An unearthly screech reverberated off every wall. She was careful to avoid the areas with the cars because they were the areas with cameras. Prue's destination was the back of the parking garage, where the Dumpsters waited to be filled and emptied.

The elevator was just ahead. If she reached it, then there was still an opportunity.

Then the banshee flew into the parking structure and landed only a few feet away from Prue. She skidded to a stop as the blue-skinned she-demon hissed malevolently. The banshee gazed upon Prue with icy, distant blue eyes. "Any moment now, Piper, would be great!"

Just as the banshee opened her mouth to begin her murderous wail, Piper sprang from behind the green metal dumpster with both of her killer hands aimed at the demon. The banshee exploded instantly.

Prue sighed with relief and exasperation. "What took you so long?"

"Sorry," Piper responded, "but I needed a nap. Leo and I had another argument last night, and I didn't get much sleep." She walked up to her older sister and embraced Prue with a lazy side-hug. "When you get married, you'll understand."

* * *

_'Wiccan holidays and festivals coincide with days of great natural power, such as the summer solstice and the full moon. Because of the natural increases of power associated with such times, Wiccans are able to tap more easily into the natural wellspring of magic that lies within the earth on these days,' _Paige read from the book in her hand.

_'Cool,'_ she thought to herself. _'So if I want to win the lottery, all I have to do is wait until the fool moon this weekend to get the winning numbers.'_

A firm tap on her shoulder made Paige look up from her book. Her boss stood over her shoulder with a scowl on his naturally grim face. Marshall Davis was a chunky Black man who, unlike most of his colleagues, had entered the field of social work only because his primary dream of a professional football career ended with three torn ligaments in his right knee during his training for the NFL combine. It hadn't made Davis any less passionate as a social worker than any other social worker who hadn't considered another career. In fact, Mr. Davis had had a faster rise to supervisor than anyone else in the history of Greater Bay Area Social Services. Still, some caseworkers accused him of always looking grim because of his deferred dream.

The yellow he wore over his cream dress shirt and make Mr. Davis seem a little more cheerful than usual. "Matthews, I understand you're seeking the position of a full-time caseworker?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, while I admire your initiative in staying after the office has closed, it doesn't support your case for promotion when you spend those extra hours engaged in pleasure reading." Mr. Davis tapped the book in Paige's hand and gestured with his eyes to the stack on her desk.

"Mr. Davis, it's not what it looks like!" Paige asserted. "Those books aren't for 'pleasure'…"

He held up a meaty hand. "Paige, I don't think _The History of Witchcraft in North America_,is relevant to what we do for these kids or these families." Paige lowered her head in shame. "Try to keep them in mind." Mr. Davis walked off, bouncing his car keys in his hand as he approached the door. "Goodnight, Matthews."

"Goodnight, Mr. Davis." Paige sighed. Her supervisor had no idea how truly important her research was.

Paige had been a full-fledged witch for all of three days. She had cast a spell to conceal; she had cast a scrying spell with a crystal to locate another witch; and Paige had successfully brewed a potion for mimicking Piper's Combustion power. But she had yet to tap into the powers that had once been Phoebe's: premonition and levitation. Prue and Leo reassured her that none of her abilities were easy to call forth. It wasn't easy to take her sister at her words, or her brother-in-law, because her only contribution to the last demonic vanquish had been to scream, Orb in place, and cast the Power of Three spell required, in that exact order. _'No wonder Piper ignores me. She probably thinks I'm this huge spaz.'_

Her cell phone rang atop her desk. The caller ID on the screen read "big sis prue." She liked that title, as it gave Pagie a sense of belonging to a family for the first time in almost a decade. "Hello?"

"Hey, Paige, I'm on my way back to the Manor. Piper just called to remind me to bring soda water." Paige smiled mildly at the knowledge that her sisters were making an effort to cater to her preferences. "Are you still coming to the dinner tonight?"

"Yeah, of course I am! I haven't eaten home-cooked meals like Piper's since…in a while." That last dinner had been marked by a wound too painful for Paige to share with her sisters yet.

"Ok, we'll see you in a few."

"Sure thing." Paige ended the call and reached for the documents scattered on the desk beside her computer. As her fingertips brushed the manila folders and papers, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over Paige. She tumbled backwards from her chair.

_'In a swirl of radiantly brilliant swirl of Orbs, Paige arrived in a rain-soaked parking lot across the street from a shabby, decrepit apartment building. It was the type of place Paige heard caseworkers discuss in the break room over cups of calming tea. It was a place of shattered dreams, broken hopes, and devastated lives. Paige didn't want to be there, but there was no way for her to escape the nighttime parking lot. For some reason, she couldn't move. _

_'A blond man with thinning hair exited a blue Toyota parked in front of her. His brown cotton jumpsuit was heavily stained with grease and dirt. Paige watched as he started up the walkway to the building. Exhaustion practically dripped from his skin. _

_'Suddenly three women appeared in his path in three bursts of smoke. The women were clad in slashed, smoky gray robes, and strange lettering was tattooed on their pale skin. "What the hell?" the blond man exclaimed. _

_'The women pounced on him. Paige could tell something was unnatural about them, because their eyes were unusually red and their hands didn't appear to end in five fingers. One held the man's arms to the sidewalk, while the third straddled his chest. Most men would have appreciated the position, but the blond men struggled and screamed for help. Paige tried to come to his aid, but she was still unable to move._

'_Horrified, Paige watched as the straddling woman breathed a cloud of smoke into the blond man's gaped mouth. He was immediately seized by convulsions, and his skin turned a frightening shade of red. The worst part came as the man began to cough in agony. Paige had to watch the pain in his eyes as his skin reddened further until he caught fire. He vanished in a cloud of smoke, still coughing in pain.' _

Paige gasped for air. Her slender hand clutched her slim pale throat, and she sat upright on the floor of the office. She hurried to gather her pink YSL knockoff purse and her keys. _'Prue explained Phoebe's premonitions before, but nothing of Prue's account resembled that at __**all**_._' _ Paige literally had been inside the vision, and it frightened her.

As she rushed off, Paige didn't see the demon camouflaged to blend into the pale blue office walls.

* * *

Several minutes later, the camouflaging demon appeared in the corridor leading to the Source's private chambers. Two burly demons wearing black leather pants, black leather boots, and black leather chest pieces studded with silver glowered at the entrance to the tunnel. The chameleon demon giggled under his breath. Despite their imposing presence, the Source's guard could be easily deceived by his unique powers. He shifted his skin and garb to match the sandstone walls of the Underworld chambers.

As he slipped past the guards, the chameleon slapped the one nearest him on his rear end. The fondled guard glared at his partner and shoved him. "Dude, I've told you I don't go that way!"

The other guard returned the murderous stare and shoved the other back. "You're the one always oiling me up behind closed doors!"

As the chameleon shed his camouflage, he shook his head at the witless demons behind him. They were still arguing and oblivious to his presence. "You fools," he muttered under his breath.

The Source awaited him in his main chamber, surrounded by a ring of gold-tinted flames. He had shed his black robes in favor of rich purple robes that shimmered under the kiss of the gold flames. "Chameleon," the Source growled, "what news have you brought me of the Charmed Ones?"

"My lord," the chameleon said and knelt on his left knee before the flames, "their powers grow. I believe that the youngest has foreseen the future."

"Paige has already become one of the Charmed Circle. The manifestation of their powers is an inevitable result of their unity as the Power of Three."

"You should strike now, my liege." The serene gold flames turned a blazing orange. "I mean, we should strike now," the chameleon whispered, but the flames still burned brilliantly red. "I meant, I should, my lord."

"Do you think I became the Source of All Evil by listening to such slithering scum as yourself, chameleon?" The camouflaging demon suddenly found his throat tightening and the flow of air to his lungs severed. A burning like flames under his skin danced just below the surface of his freckled gray and green skin. "I do not require what passes for wisdom from your foolish lips. I need only to bide my time and allow my true enemies to reveal themselves."

With that, the Source released his lethal grip on the chameleon's throat. The nearly murdered demon leered at his master from the floor.

* * *

"Piper, all I'm suggesting is that neither you nor Prue should bring this up tonight with Paige," Leo pled.

He followed his wife into the kitchen. Paige carried in her arms a large mixing bowl filled with creamy homemade tartar sauce. Leo held a screwdriver in his greasy left hand. Although Leo had the more dangerous weapon, it was clear who was winning their argument.

"Paige needs to understand that there are certain responsibilities she has, now that she's a witch. Her contribution to the Power of Three has to be more than just researching magical lore. And she can't keep living in her own apartment anymore, either."

"I understand that, Piper, but…"

"Besides that, Prue has already cornered that niche of the Triquetra." Piper set the tartar sauce on the counter and gingerly covered it with plastic wrap.

"Prue is only using all those hours of studying to cope with her grief, and you know it, Piper."

"I grew up with Prue. I know that." Piper testily slammed the tartar sauce into the refrigerator. She struggled to rein in her anger before her hand aimed at something and it exploded. In the last two weeks, Piper's powers were subject to her emotional whims, and her emotions were far from stable. "At least she's being useful, which is all I can ask."

"Prue is using herself to bait demons!" Leo yelped.

"It was one demon, and it feeds on grief. Prue can't blow things up, and I can't do that if I'm the banshee's target."

"Speaking of that, you two need to stop randomly attacking demons. It's too much exposure. And I don't want to lose my wife."

_'Like we lost Phoebe?'_ Piper finished in her thoughts. Even if she realized in her heart that her husband was right and, if nothing else, concerned about her behavior of late, Piper was unwilling to let Leo win the argument. "I thought we were just talking about Paige? Is there anything else you want to get off your chest?"

"We were. But we could also talk about children?"

Piper narrowed her eyes. "Is that why you're defending Paige so adamantly? Are you afraid that our kid might end up without magical powers?"

"That would literally be impossible. Paige has powers, and so would our kid." Leo smiled slyly at his wife. "But if you want to see some real powers, I think we've got an hour before dinner."

Piper found it impossible to resist Leo's suggestive smirk. Even if they had just argued, Piper was definitely charmed by her husband. She glanced at the clock on the oven to confirm his assessment and stormed from the kitchen. "Piper, where are you going?"

"Paige is running late! The fish is almost ready!" _'No useful powers, I can tolerate. Missing a home-cooked meal with us, Daryl and his wife is intolerable!'_

"So what are you going to do? Track her down?"

Piper picked up the cordless phone in the drawing room, next to the picture of her, Prue, and Phoebe that Grams had taken the day she had died. She waved the phone in Leo's face and pressed the power button. At that moment, there was a knock at the door. "Leo, answer that."

The Whitelighter opened the door and found Paige on the front porch with a terrified expression on her face. "Paige, are you ok?"

"I think I had a premonition of a man dying, and I need your help to stop it," Paige confessed in a nervous ramble.

* * *

An hour later, Daryl exited his second generation black Honda Passport in front of Halliwell Manor. He was dressed casually in a pair of gray slacks, gray suit jacket, and a collarless electric blue polo. Daryl's polished black loafers gleamed in the rain-soaked asphalt on which he walked.

Prue and Leo watched from the front window of Halliwell Manor. "Are Piper and Prue ok? They don't need any help, do they?"

Leo closed his eyes and reached for his wife and half-sister through the web of his charges. He smiled at Prue. "They're fine, Prue. I don't know who the demons are, but Piper's angry." Prue sighed in relief. "Would you rather hunt demons than host dinner?"

"My sisters might need me. Phoebe needed me, but I wasn't there."

"Your sisters needed you here to host dinner, to make sure things stayed normal."

The doorbell summoned Prue to the door. In a simple black dress with baby blue sweater to cover her torso and low black pumps, Prue had chosen to be alluring yet elegant. Her flowing brown hair was bound in a ponytail draped across her shoulder. She opened the door to find Daryl, his very pregnant wife Sheila, and a short Hispanic man in a crisp, tailored navy blue suit standing on the front porch. It was obvious from the wary glances Daryl and Sheila gave him that the man was someone dangerous. "Good evening. Are you Miss Piper Halliwell?" he asked.

"No, I'm Prue. Who are you?"

"Lieutenant David Rodriguez. I'm here to ask some questions about your sister's murder."

* * *

At that same moment in Oakland, Piper and Page were reclined in the front seat of Piper's SUV on a stakeout. No one would have seen them unless his or her face was pressed against the glass windows. "Tell me again, why I agreed to sit like this?" Piper grumbled.

Paige peered across the parking lot through a pair of night-vision goggles. She had donned a black pullover and black jeans, even though the nighttime air was balmy, without a hint of the cool weather originally forecast. "Because we can avoid detection this way."

"And why do you need night-vision goggles?"

"So I can have vision in the night."

Piper rolled her eyes. "And why exactly do you _have_ night-vision goggles?"

"Because nobody dumps Paige Matthews during final exams, the most stressful time of the year, without getting his car turned into a lemon custard pie on wheels." When Piper looked at her in askance, Paige simply shrugged her shoulders. "I'll tell you later."

Paige resumed peeking through the goggles, and Piper snuggled down, ready to nap. Then Paige gasped. "Oh my God! Piper! Piper!"

"What, what, whaaaat?"

"It's him, Piper! It's the guy from my possible premonition!"

Paige pointed enthusiastically out the driver's side window. Piper had no choice but to follow her younger sister's gaze. A blond man in his late 30s with thinning hair and a haggard expression on his face crossed the parking lot. He held a slim bag of groceries in his arms. "Ok, that's usually what happens when you have a premonition, Paige. You see people and things from your visions."

The younger witch ignored the sarcasm in Piper's voice. "I'm going to go talk to him." Paige dashed form the car before Piper could stop her.

"What the hell am I now, a babysitter?" Piper exited the car and wisely beeped the car alarm. The blond man continued toward the building without the least cautious of backward glances.

"Hey! Mr. Scott!"

The man turned toward Paige. "Who are you?"

"I'm Paige Matthews, and this is my…"

"Associate, I'm her associate. Henrietta Cavendish." Piper modified her voice into a curt British accent, and set her shoulders in a defensive posture. She wanted to project to the blond man the attitude of a professional with little time for courtesies.

"What's with the accent?" Paige whispered.

"In our line of work, we don't use real identities."

"Who are you?" the blond repeated.

Paige huffed irritably. "We're…" Suddenly, three scantily clad women in robes as red as wine appeared behind the man. "Look out!"

The man turned as two of the women seized his arms. Just like Paige's premonition, the frighteningly tattooed women seized his arms and slammed him to the sidewalk. Piper waved her hands and Immobilized the struggling man. But the demonic-looking she-beasts did not.

"Piper, I thought you said you could freeze things!"

"I can!"

"Then why in the hell isn't it working now?"

Piper gritted her teeth, raised her hands, and tried to Combust the vile creatures. The two holding the blond man's arms flew backward several yards with scorch marks on their torsos. "Sometimes it doesn't work, okay?"

The third creature screeched and bared three claw-like talons, which emerged from its forearm where a woman's hands ought to have been. A pair of grayish, shabby wings unfurled from her back. She screeched again and flew at Piper, bearing her to the sidewalk.

"Piper!" Paige yelled. Without any potion, spell, or an active magical power, Paige realized her uselessness in the fight. She decided to overcome it, and kicked at the demon with her black Dolce & Gabbana boots. The demon hissed and knocked her backward with a single wave of its left arm. Paige screamed as she flew into the air and stopped almost immediately.

"What the hell?" Paige moved her arms and kicked her legs. _'I can move, but I can't fall! This must be Phoebe's active power! Yes!'_ Triumph replaced fear as Paige Hovered confidently over the apartment building's front stoop.

The two other demons recovered while she celebrated and glided through the air to rest on Mr. Scott's chest. In that moment, Paige remembered why she was there: to save the Innocent man she had seen murdered in her premonition. "No! Leave him alone!" The demons ignored her and leaned dangerously close to the unconscious blond man's face.

Paige tried to kick her legs and swim through the air toward Mr. Scott, but it only made her rotate in a circle. _'Noooo! I have to help him! I need to get down NOW!'_ Her new power wasn't cooperating, and on the ground below, Piper was pinned beneath the third winged creature. Without any other course of action, Paige pulled off her boots and threw them at the demons.

Two well-aimed strikes drew their attention from the helpless man, to helplessly Hovering Paige. She cringed as the two snarling demons stalked toward her and unfurled their wings. Yet they did not fly up toward her. "You guys must be the penguins of the demonic world? Ha! Bet you can't get me up here!" Paige taunted.

Before the demons could test her wager, a thunderous explosion, followed by three shrill screeches, filled the dark parking lot. The creature straddling Piper's chest died in a burst of flaming feathers. Piper sat up and aimed at the demon nearest Paige. It Combusted instantly. Before Piper could vanquish the third and final demon, it screeched and vanished in a cloud of smoke.

Paige breathed a sigh of relief. A heartbeat later, she dropped to the ground. "OW!"

"I think one of those things," Piper hacked, "breathed some smoke," she coughed again, "into my mouth."

"Oh no, you're going to die! By the way, I'm fine too. Thanks for asking." Paige pushed herself to her feet and brushed herself off.

Piper coughed again in reply. "Come on, we have to," she coughed again, "go now," she coughed again, "before someone sees us. I don't think I'm going to," she coughed a third time, "die."

"We'll see, I guess. What about Mr. Scott?"

Piper hacked. "What about him? He'll be fine." Piper stumbled toward her SUV, leaving Paige to stare at the unconscious blond man.


	6. 4x04 Hell Hath No Fury (Part 2)

**Author's Note: So I split 4x04 into two chapters because the whole chapter is around 8000 words. I didn't think that anyone would read 8000 words in one sitting, but as I am already halfway through 4x05, I'll try posting the whole chapter as one chapter, rather than two. The next chapter will feature a special guest and yes, I'll be updating within a week of this chapter. **

**Thanks to the guest, koryandrs, lizardmomma, and charmedeva for reviewing the previous chapter. I really appreciate your positive comments; the past two weeks have been really stressful and I kind of wanted to quit writing for a while. Thanks to Angel of Music101 and PuckleberryGeek89 for the latest followings. I'm motivated more, now than ever, to resume posting each week and I apologize for the delay.**

**Without further ado, the conclusion to Hell Hath No Fury.**

* * *

Prue folded her arms over her chest, widened her stance, and narrowed her eyes. No one could interpret her posture as anything but defensive. "What kind of questions could you possibly have?"

"Could we perhaps discuss this inside? It's a bit chilly out here, Miss Halliwell."

"You won't find it's any warmer in here, trust me."

Leo leaned close to his sister-in-law's left ear, but his green eyes warily focused on Lieutenant Rodriguez. "I think we should let the cop in, so he can ask his questions and leave."

"And I've really got to powder my nose," Sheila pled, shifting slightly on her feet.

Prue sighed and admitted the couple and the lieutenant into the manor. "Leo, I'll go show Shiela where the powder room is. How about you enjoy some guy time with the cops?" Shooting Leo a mocking smile, Prue motioned for Sheila to follow her upstairs.

As Prue retreated, she heard Leo ask, "So…guys…what about those Forty-Niners?"

Sheila lightly touched Prue's arm when they reached the bathroom door. "I don't really have to go. I wanted to apologize for how that must have seemed, when we were on the porch with Daryl's lieutenant. Most dinner party guests would have brought a bottle of wine. We brought a police officer."

Prue folded her arms across her chest. "Why did you?"

"We didn't." Sheila's earnest expression gave Prue reason to leave her skepticism. "Daryl's lieutenant pulled up at the same time that we did."

"The last cop who came to our door unannounced, ended up dead from investigating Cole." Prue flinched at mentioning the turncoat lawyer's name; she still had a score to settle with him. "I watched him die myself, and I can't let it happen again. Did he say what he wants?"

"No, but Daryl knows the lieutenant is investigating the three of you. He said you've been linked to a lot of cases, and it doesn't help that Phoebe and that doctor died here."

Prue nodded solemnly. _'Even if Piper and I put that spell on that mannequin to make it look like Phoebe before we called the police, it still has to look suspicious that so many people have died here. We should have cast more spells but just that one to conceal Phoebe's death drained us.'_

"As long as he doesn't go digging too deeply, we should be alright."

"Is there something you're not telling me?" Sheila caressed her belly with her left hand, and her engagement ring caught the lamplight overhead. "Daryl is already involved with the police force every day. I already reconciled myself with possibly losing my husband in a gunfight. I can't lose him to something else."

_'Like I lost Andy; I warned him to stay away, but he didn't.' _Prue delicately chose her words. "There's a lot about this witchcraft stuff that we don't understand or know, but we've kept Daryl away from the demons and warlocks. Nothing more sinister than that is at work, Sheila, I promise."

Sheila smiled and patted Prue's folded arms. "Well, I really have to go now. God knows I can't wait for this baby to come out, so I can have control of my body again!"

Both women laughed, and Prue pointed to the door of the bathroom she used to share with Phoebe. "It's right there."

"Thanks." Sheila stepped in and closed the door behind her.

_'In a few months, I'll be thirty-one,' _Prue thought as she drifted back downstairs. _'I've got a job I love, but with no husband and no prospect of a husband, which means no kids. And I won't go through what Mom went through with us, being a single mother, full-time witch, and trying to make ends meet. Maybe I should just go out and buy a pair of baby booties, just to see how they would be on my precious little girl's feet?' _

Ignoring the men bantering about the disappointing 6-10 season from the previous year and whether Jerry Rice would retire, Prue set the table and checked on the food Piper had prepared earlier in the day. When Sheila came downstairs, Prue served the dinner. Piper had prepared zesty baked salmon with homemade tartar sauce, mini salads stuffed into artichokes, roasted asparagus with mint, and fresh baked yeast rolls. An elegant bouquet from 1996—"The year I met Daryl!" Sheila exclaimed, even though she didn't take a glass—christened the meal in their stomachs.

Sheila and Daryl remained the center of the conversation throughout dinner. They regaled the table with the story of how they met—Sheila was a college student who almost got mugged, and Daryl was the police academy trainee with a good heart—and their first date, during which Daryl had shielded Sheila with his brand-new and very expensive sports jacket when a spontaneous thunderstorm broke out. When Daryl began to explain how he had proposed, Prue was glad to avoid the white elephant in the room, while also steeling against the inevitable confrontation.

"So Prue," Lieutenant Rodriguez said, while they all laughed about Daryl's disastrous engagement ring purchase, "how long as your family lived here?"

"Halliwells have occupied the manor for nearly one hundred years, since the nineteen-oh-six earthquake." Prue sipped her wine. "Why do you ask?"

"Daryl told me you used to work at Buckland's Auction House as an appraiser, and that you majored in history in college." Prue glanced at the Black cop, who sent her the slightest of head shakes in denial of the misinformation. _'He probably got it from my police file.'_ "What can you tell me of your family's history?"

"I actually don't know much about my family's history, but why do you ask?"

"I'm wondering how far back I need to investigate the strange incidents that have taken place here."

"What incidents are you talking about?"

"Let's see: A dead doctor, a dead cop, and a dead sister; strange noises reported by your neighbors; and unusually violent noises coming from your house on a regular basis. Those are incidents reported to the local precinct. How long has that been going on?" Lieutenant Rodriguez folded his hands to touch his fingertips to each other over his plate and stared smugly at Prue.

It required Prue's decades of carefully honed restraint to refrain from flinging the sarcastic cop through the dining room wall. "With all due respect, Lieutenant Rodriguez, this is a dinner party, not an interrogation room."

"With all due respect, Miss Halliwell, I simply asked about the history of your house."

"You weren't an invited guest." Leo glowered at Rodriguez. "We have no obligation to answer your questions."

Lieutenant Rodriguez nodded understandingly, set his napkin on his plate, and rose from his chair. "Alright, I can take a hint. I'll see myself out. It was a wonderful meal, and I appreciate your hospitality."

Daryl and Sheila stared at their plates in indignation. Leo glared at the lieutenant as he walked to the door, outraged that his family and home had been intruded upon. _'I'm surprised my powers didn't break his neck, as unstable as they've been lately,'_ Prue thought.

Before the lieutenant reached the foyer, everyone inside the house heard raised voices on the other side of the doors.

"Piper, are you sure you're alright? Maybe we should go to the hospital?"

A deep, rattling cough answered Paige's question. _'It sounds like Piper's sick again. It can't be the fever she had two years ago again; she promised she was going to take better care of herself.' _Prue and Leo both rose from their chairs and approached the door.

"I'm fine!" Piper snapped. "Those chain-smoking bitches got me, but when I find them…" The door knob rattled. "What the hell! The door is stuck again!"

"We'll just ring the doorbell. Ask Leo to fix it later."

"No. I'll fix it now." Without further warning, the door exploded inwardly. Lieutenant Rodriguez ducked to avoid the flying wood shrapnel and glass shards. Daryl shielded his wife's body with his own, and Leo pulled Prue into the shelter of the wall beside the manor's downstairs mirror. As the smoke cleared, Paige and Piper stood in the vacant doorway. Paige's expression of shock had no comparison to Piper's look of indifference.

"There, I fixed the door."

* * *

"Piper, what is wrong with you?" Paige demanded.

From the floor, Lieutenant Rodriguez dusted himself free of dust and debris before climbing to his feet, otherwise unharmed. "What the hell was that? Do you have explosives wired to your door?"

Piper opened her mouth in an effort to respond, but Prue hustled to stand between Piper and the lieutenant. "Explosives, yes, we use explosives!" _'I will not clean human guts from the foyer if Piper loses control.' _ "Leo installed them last year after that stalking incident we had. I'm sure that was included in your list of incidents."

Lieutenant Rodriguez grimaced at the shards of fiberglass peppering his suit. "Yes, I remember reading it from your files. Someone broke into your house, Miss Halliwell, and tried to kill you. How does that justify your brother-in-law installing explosives?"

"I had to protect my family," Leo replied.

"That's against city regulation, and it's moronic to boot."

Piper lunged at Lieutenant Rodriguez but Prue stopped her. It was Daryl who responded. "The Halliwells have a constitutional right to privacy, sir. If their methods are unorthodox, it seems to work."

"It didn't work for Phoebe."

"That's it!" Piper snarled. She lunged at Rodriguez again with a frenzied look in her bloodshot eyes. Prue seized Piper's hands and pressed them firmly to both sides of her face. Her icy blue eyes conveyed the warning, _'If you're going to blow up someone, it needs to be me.'_

Piper's growl didn't subside. For a tense, extended moment, Prue suspected that her sister was about to kill her. Then Piper snatched back her hands and stormed past the lieutenant to her upstairs bedroom. "What's her problem?" Lieutenant Rodriguez asked.

"Leo, please go check on Piper. Daryl, Sheila, it's been a lovely evening, but as I'm sure you can tell, we're having some family issues right now. Would you two please see our uninvited guest out?"

Sheila nodded and Daryl added, "No problem."

Prue turned to Paige. "I know you don't live here, Paige, but would you mind helping me clean up when the Morrises leave?"

"Yeah, that's no problem."

Paige crossed the threshold as Lieutenant Rodriguez finished his walk to the front door. He paused to lock eyes with Prue. "Don't worry, Miss Halliwell. I'll be back for more questions. My compliments to the chef: The fish was magnificent."

"Good night, Lieutenant." There was no question about the insincerity of Prue's dismissal.

Leo came to the bedroom he shared with Piper after the Morrises left. Both Sheila and Prue had offered gracious advice for dealing with his wife. "Piper? Are you in there?"

"Go away."

Indignant at his wife's response, Leo opened the unlocked door and strode into the room. All evidence of Prue's residence had been replaced by touches of the married lifestyle that now graced the room. Two picture frames on the walls contained dried flowers, and two others had posed portraits of Leo and Piper in black-and-white. Leo had posed just after repairing the sink, and Piper had posed while stirring a bouillabaisse. Piper's side of the bed was designated by a table bearing a well-used copy of Julia Child's _The Art of Cooking._ Leo's side had a portrait of Piper in her wedding dress and George Foreman grilling cookbook.

Piper sat cross-legged on the bed in the middle of the room. A map of San Francisco was unfolded in front of her, and a crystal dangled from a slim string in her hand. "I told you to go away," she said sullenly.

"Piper, I am your husband…." Leo started gently, but Piper shushed him.

"Be quiet. I'm scrying."

"And when you speak to me that way, then we have a problem." In a breath that summoned together all of his Whitelighter training and his marital advice from Sheila, Leo calmed. "What's going on, Piper? I need you to talk to me about your feelings. I want you to let me in."

Piper set the crystal aside and sighed wearily. When she gazed at him, Leo never had seen her eyes so bloodshot and wild. "It hurts to talk, Leo. It hurts to sleep beside you at night. It hurts to _breathe._ And unless you know some way to bring Phoebe back, then this conversation is over."

"You blame me, don't you?"

"Blame you for what, Leo?"

"Phoebe died under my watch. I blame myself for that every day."

"Oh yeah, Leo, you're completely to blame." The heated anger that filled Piper's blood was suddenly exacerbated by the presence of something darker, crueler, and more vicious. "You were right there when it happened. You could have stopped her! You could have brought her back home! But you let her die at the hands of her demonic ex-boyfriend."

"Piper, you need to forgive me, for both of us."

"Leo, I don't blame you for Phoebe's death. You didn't murder her. A demon did. And that's what I'm trying to track down: a demon, any demon."

"You need to stop that too, Piper. It's not safe for you or Prue to chase down random demons with no idea how to vanquish them. And it doesn't help Paige."

"Leo, I'm sick of your patronizing." Piper felt sweat beading on her forehead but she ignored it. "You're not a Whitelighter; you're just a weak, useless, emotional coward! I hate you. I hate you!" The walls of the bedroom trembled with the magnitude of Piper's rage, causing their pictures to go askew. "Why don't you just die all over again?"

The bedroom door opened. Prue and Paige walked into the room just as Piper's killer hands aimed at Leo and Combusted him in a blast of iridescent Orbs.

* * *

"Oh my God, Leo!" Paige gasped with wide eyes. "Piper, what did you do?"

Piper snapped her neck in Paige's direction. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face was covered with sweat. "You," Piper growled, "who the hell are you to come into my life this way?" Prue noticed Piper's suddenly black fingernails lengthening and her flowing brown hair was matted. She held out an arm to shield her younger half-sister from Piper's wrath. "My life was perfect without you in it. No one wanted you here. Mom gave you away. Why don't you go back to being away?"

_'Something has possessed Piper,'_ Prue realized, _'and I'm the only one standing between her and total destruction.'_ "Piper, sweetie, listen to me: Whatever has possessed you, you can't let them win. This isn't you, Piper. Fight it."

Even as Prue backed out the room, still shielding an immobile Paige, Piper devoted her total attention to her elder sister. "Where were you when Phoebe died? You always focused on saving the Innocent, but you couldn't save our damn sister! What kind of witch are you?"

"Okay, Piper, that is _not_ fair of you…"

As if a newly acquired power, Piper smoothly slid from the bed to stalk across the floor toward her two sisters. Prue continued to back Paige into the hallway. "Fair, you want to discuss fair?" Her voice had become raspy, as if Piper had talked for hours rather than seconds. "What's fair about being in this family? You never had a life, Prue, and that wasn't fair. Paige wasn't wanted in this family; that can't be fair."

"That's not true!" Paige yelled.

As the three sisters entered the hallway, Prue noticed the radiant blue-and-white light in Leo and Piper's bedroom. Seconds later, the Whitelighter dashed out the bedroom and bear hugged Piper from behind. The Whitelighter was no match for whatever evil had possessed Piper. She broke free of his grip and slashed at his chest with hands that ended in nails as long and sharp as ninjitsu knives. A sanguine red mark emerged on Leo's exposed chest.

_'Ok, she's not possessed,'_ Prue realized, _'she's turning into something, like when she was the Wendigo.'_ Piper folded up her legs to her chest and donkey-kicked Leo into the hallway wall with a crash that shattered several antique picture frames. _'At least it's okay for me to do this.'_ With a flick of the first two fingers of her right hand, Prue sent Piper flying into the end of the hallway.

Paige gasped when Piper landed on the floor, unconscious. "Oh my God, is she okay?"

"No, she's turning into something. I don't know what yet, but at least she's out cold. That buys us some time to figure out what it is and fix her."

"But she's alive?"

"Yeah."

"Good, because I want to kick her ass for what she just said to me."

Prue raised her eyebrows but said nothing else. Time was too valuable. "Come on, let's get her tied up and into the attic, with the Book."

"What about Leo?"

"He'll wake up any moment. He's already dead. Being knocked out doesn't faze him."

* * *

Moments later, a snarling, tempestuous Piper wrestled against three yards of rope wound securely around her body. Even if Prue ignored her younger sister's feral behavior, Piper's bloodshot eyes, claw-like hands, and the acute yellow teeth she bared made Prue extremely nervous. Furthermore, two feathery lumps had risen in the back of Piper's blouse. The elder Halliwell preferred to continue flipping through the Book of Shadows.

"Oh my God," Paige whispered. She stood on the far side of the room behind Prue. "She's starting to look like one of those things we had to battle earlier."

"Didn't you say they looked like giant female birds and breathed smoke?" Leo recalled. Paige had informed Prue and Leo about her premonition and the earlier battle against the she-demons.

"They didn't breathe smoke, but in my premonition, they killed Mr. Scott with it."

"And they breathed it into Piper too?" Prue asked. After helping to move Piper into the attic, Prue had changed into a soft gray workout suit with a zipped-up top. _'It's better to be ready for a fight than lose __**another**__ terrific outfit to some demon blood.'_

Paige nodded. "I'm going to find them in the book," Prue explained testily, "and we're going to Vanquish them, if that's what it takes to get Piper back."

"So you think they're responsible for her transformation, too?" Leo asked. He stood closest of all to Piper without being an easy target for her attack.

"There's not a doubt in my mind." She closed her eyes and held one hand over the Book. "I'm looking for she-demons with smoke and wings." In obedience to Prue's request, the Book rapidly turned and stopped at a dusty, well-worn page with a drawing of three scantily-clad, winged female demons standing side-by-side. "I found it: the Furies."

Leo's eyes widened. Prue read the passage silently and glanced grimly from her brother-in-law to her half-sister. Paige frowned in confusion. "I'm sorry to be slow on the terror trip, but what are Furies?"

At that moment, Piper gnawed her way through the ineffective gag covering her mouth and uttered a keening screech. Prue and Paige both collapsed in contortions of pain, desperately covering their ears. But Leo rushed forward, retrieved the remains of the gag from the floor, and suppressed Fury-Piper's unbearable wail. The two Charmed Ones rose from the floor on legs that were far from steady.

"Thanks, Leo," Prue said.

"Don't mention it."

"Yeah," Paige added, "we were…"

Before she could state what they were, two Furies appeared on either side of Piper in clouds of smoke. Their hands were folded and their eyes closed, as if in prayer. Paige gasped. The Furies opened their eyes, screeched hideously, and backhanded Leo together. Leo flew to the back of the attic and crumpled to the floor in front of an old bureau of clothes and notebooks.

Prue launched instinctively into action. With one wave of her right arm, she sent both demons flying backwards off their feet. While Paige cowered in one corner of the attic, Prue flung an athame at one of the she-demons. The creature cunningly caught the blade in its talons. "Paige! Are you going to sit there or are you going to fight?"

While the athame-holding demon flung the weapon aside, Paige whimpered, "I don't know what to do! I'm not a fighter!"

"It's time to become one!" The Furies severed Fury-Piper's ropes with one swipe of their talons. Fury-Piper flexed her claws. She launched herself at Paige while the other two began to approach Prue.

Striking a defensive stance, Prue waited for the Furies to strike. The first attacked with a wildly swinging talon, and Prue responded with a kick that caused the she-demon to stagger and double over. Prue launched over the first creature and placed a roundhouse kick to the face of the second. It stumbled and fell backwards.

Prue dispatched the first Fury with a flick of her wrist, sending the Fury sailing out the attic window. Then she somersaulted toward the athame. When the injured Fury scrambled to her feet, Prue stabbed it with the ceremonial knife. It momentarily turned red upon sinking into the she-demon's body. "Finally, I get to shut you up," Prue quipped. Defiantly, the Fury shrieked one final time before it died in a fiery explosion. "Now comes the hard part."

Her other two sisters were in a game of Orb-and-Seek. Every few seconds, Fury-Piper lunged at Paige, and the half-Whitelighter Orbed out. Piper would miss her opportunity to strike. Paige would Orb back into place while Fury-Piper was disoriented. Prue watched the game with disinterest for all of ten seconds then flicked her left wrist, telekinetically slamming Piper into the wall ceiling. "Paige, are you okay?"

The half-witch was breathless without running. "I'm fine, but it's exhausting to Orb so much."

Prue nodded. "You'll get to rest in a minute. Right now, let's save Piper."

Approaching the unconscious Fury-Piper, Prue said, "According to the book, Furies are she-demons that always travel in packs of three. They target evil-doers with their screeches and kill them with their smoke, which imitates their victims' souls."

"But I thought Piper was a good person?"

"She is," Leo groaned from behind them. The Whitelighter climbed to his feet and was barely fazed from his recent unconsciousness. "But when the Furies encounter any woman who is consumed by unexpressed rage," he dusted himself off, "that woman can become a Fury too."

"A woman with repressed rage? That's every woman on this planet, at least one week each month!" Paige exclaimed.

"No, this has to be a special kind of anger. It has to be anger fueled by a desire for vengeance that can never be quenched."

"So what do we need to do to get Piper back?" Prue asked.

"If she hasn't killed any evildoer, then she must express her rage."

Fury-Piper woke suddenly and her bloodshot eyes locked with Leo's. She launched into the air, knocked over Prue and Paige, and slammed into Leo. Before Prue could use her telekinesis or Paige could do anything, the Whitelighter Orbed from the attic.

"Where did they go?" Paige asked fearfully.

"To test Leo's theory."

* * *

The grounds of St. Francis were disturbingly quiet in the night. No space was heavier with the placid, local night air than the home of the dead. In the church's commodious graveyard, fog danced among the headstones and crypts. It was into one of those crypts that Leo Orbed.

Fury-Piper swiped at his chest the instant their feet touch the cold marble floor. "Piper, stop!" Leo seized his wife's arms and glared into her bloodshot eyes. "Look." He forced her to turn around and face a bronze plaque on the wall. It read Phoebe Halliwell 1975-2001.

"No," Fury-Piper groaned. She struggled to strike Leo again, but the Whitelighter's hold was firm.

"I know she's the one you're angry with. You need to talk to her. You need to tell her how you feel," he whispered.

Fury-Piper panted for air and struggled against the words in her chest. "H-how…how...how dare you...How dare you?" Fury-Piper broke free of Leo's grip and hurled herself at the plaque marking her younger sister's final resting place. She pummeled the bronze with her clawed hands.

"How dare you! We told you not to date him! We told you he was bad for you! He tried to kill us! You lied to us. You let him back into your life, and we tried to stop you! You never listened to us, Phoebe, not once!" Piper's legs gave way, and she slid down the wall to rest on the floor. "How dare you run to him when we needed you? How dare you _die_ like this, no goodbye, no apology—you died so stupidly! HOW DARE YOU!"

Piper began to weep copiously. Her eyes healed and her nails shrank back to their normal, manicured size. Her wild, tangled hair resumed its normal, straightened texture. Leo came to his wife's side and cradled her while she sobbed uncontrollably.


	7. 4x05 Cat Lady (Part 1)

**Author's Note:** **Thanks to reviews from highlander348, draupadi, Dreaming June, ObsessedwReading, , and HollyShannenForever, because your positive feedback is really encouraging. I almost feel that I have to make some atrocious error (like killing Leo) in order to get a negative review. And thanks also to the latest followers vascoenkara, ObsessedwReading, Dreaming June, GazerBlitz, Aviva426, and highlander348. **

**I apologize for this late update. In the last three weeks, I got a second job, started the final exams portion of my final semester of college, AND started training five days a week for a marathon next summer. Then I contracted bronchitis, which kept me from doing any of those things. I tried to work on my stories, but that's not a good idea on a fever of 101 degrees. I just started recovering yesterday, and sat down as soon as I could breathe without wheezing last night to type out everything I'd spent weeks imagining. **

**Just to help you guys imagine the character of Belinda, as an old woman she would be played by Betty White; as a teenage girl by Megan Fox; and as a middle-aged woman by Marcia Gay Harden. **

**Enjoy, review, and follow! I'm already working on the next chapter and hope to post it this weekend.**

* * *

**_Tacoma, Washington, Two Nights Later…._**

On a quiet cul-de-sac in Tacoma, Washington, a green one-story house grew flowered in a yard that resembled an arboretum more than a house where someone lived. A trellis covered with flowing ivy ran up one side of the house. The white picket fence, gate, and arch over the gate had two different kinds of flowering ivy entwined on the wooden rails. Illuminated by the full moon, lush, verdant grass flourished between the walls of the fence like carpeting that hardly needed to be trained. Five rosebushes were dispersed in concentric circles around the house and were maintained lovingly, while the flowerbeds were devoid of weeds.

A petite blonde woman walked through the gate with a determined stride. Dressed in comfortable khakis, a striped red-and-blue Polo blouse, and low red heels, she seemed to the entire world like a confident, self-assured woman in her late 20s. The weariness of another day of the corporate grind wilted on her face. Her brown leather pocketbook dangled from her left shoulder and in the same hand, she carried a set of keys for every door in her life. There was only one out of place accessory she carried to the white front door of the green house: a tawny Siamese cat with piercing blue eyes.

The blonde woman rapped on the door with its bronze knocker shaped like a cat's paw. "Oh dear," an elderly woman's voice warbled, "just one moment please."

Although she was very busy and had many urgent and important things to do—as her daily calendar reminded her in red words and highlights—the blonde woman huffed and resigned to be patient. "I don't quite move as quickly as I used to," the old woman warbled.

The lock tumbled and the door opened to reveal the old woman and partial view of the interior of the house. She was shorter than the blonde, which immediately disarmed many of the younger woman's misgivings about the elderly woman. Clad in a fuzzy, bubble gum pink housecoat with short silvery hair clipped back in a bun, the pasty, well-wrinkled elderly woman was radiant with kindness and joy. The blonde wasn't accustomed to see such an expression at that hour—or any other, for that matter.

"Oh my stars!" The old woman clasped her wrinkled, blue-veined hands to her mouth in surprise. "I have a visitor at this time of night! And you brought home Emma too!"

The blonde woman's joy at the greeting the elderly woman evaporated. She handed over the Siamese cat. "Well, if that's all you needed help with…"

"Oh no, don't tell me you were about to leave, dear?" The elderly woman scratched the cat's nape while her cat green eyes fixed the younger woman in place. "I so rarely have any visitors anymore. Lately, it's just been me and my cats here."

"I actually have several applications to review and a report to finish for my job."

"Dearie, you must be one of those professional working women?" The blonde nodded, and the elderly woman gave her an empathetic look. "I was a hard-working girl once, too, always on the go, never a moment's worth of rest….I absolutely _insist_ that you come in for a cup of tea and take some time away from work."

The blonde fretted for a moment. "Alright, I suppose a cup of tea wouldn't hurt at this hour."

Grinning happily, the elderly woman stepped aside and permitted the blonde to enter her home. The living room was garish with cozy chintz armchairs, framed pictures of flowers, a wall of fragile curios, and doilies covering the table. Most disturbing, cats overpopulated the living room. It seemed that every feline species and shade was represented in the living room. There were so many sprawled upon the furniture and the floor that the house seemed even smaller.

"Are all these cats yours?"

"Why yes! I hope you aren't allergic, are you?"

"No, no, I just…wondered…"

The elderly woman shut the door and bustled into the kitchen. She returned with twin teacups and a bag of tea leaves in her hands. "I'm sorry, dear. I didn't get your name."

"It's Grace, what is yours?"

"Belinda Galloway, and I would shake your hands, but…"

Grace chuckled. "I understand. It's okay." A high-pitched whistle assaulted their ears. "Is the water done already?"

Belinda set the cups on one of the tables and set a bag in each cup. "Well, I was already steeping the water when you arrived. It's my nightly habit, and it's kept me young and beautiful for quite some time." Belinda disappeared into the kitchen, and returned with a turquoise tea pot held in a hand clad in an oven mitt. "How long have you been at your current job?"

"Eight weeks and two days."

"That's wonderful!" Belinda began pouring hot water for each of them. "It's so good to see the opportunities young women like you have these days. When I was your age, opportunities were so…limited." Once each cup was filled with steaming brown liquid, Belinda sat down. "Please feel free to try some; it's a special blend I found while I lived in China."

Grace gladly took the cup from the table and sipped it. "I always wanted to go to China, but I never got to go."

Belinda pressed her cup to her lips. Unfortunately for Grace, she did not see the tea stop short of the old woman's pursed lips. "Why didn't you go?"

"It was one of those romantic dreams I had when I graduated college. You know, like marrying my high school sweetheart, having a nice three-bedroom house, having kids…." Grace sighed wearily and took another sip of tea.

"Dearie, you're still young and very pretty. You could still do all of those things. It's not too late."

"No, I can't. I've had nothing but bad…." A sudden wave of dizziness consumed Grace. "Wow, I'm tired. It must be from working ten-hour days." She attempted to laugh, but the effort drained the little energy she still had. "I should go home."

Grace attempted and failed to stand. "Dearie, you won't be going anywhere tonight." As Grace slumped in her chair, the cats around the room began to meow in unison and circle their owner. "In fact, I think you're going to like staying at my house."

The haunting green light that embraced Grace was visible through the gauzy curtains, and from the yard, Grace's scream of terror changed into a high-pitched yowl.

* * *

**_The Next Morning…_**

As the springtime sun caressed the city with its warm fingertips, Prue stared out the front window of Halliwell Manor. Still dressed in her pajamas, the eldest Halliwell sister held a cup of freshly brewed coffee in her hand. It wasn't the coffee or even the sunrise that had brought her to stare at Prescott Street that morning.

Two tall, lean blond men, dressed identically in black running shorts and orange-and-yellow tank tops, jogged down Prescott Street. The early morning sun radiated from their lean legs and sinewy arms. Sheens of sweat sparkled upon their faces and trickled down their necks. Their shirts were soaked with sweat, despite the cool morning air, and clung desperately to their chiseled torsos. Very little was left to Prue's imagination by their clinging shorts.

_'Talk about a view to kill. If I had Piper's power, I'd freeze them just to see if the advertisement matches the product. Hmm, Piper might be married but she isn't dead. Maybe I can convince her to freeze them while I just send some clothes flying.' _

The blonds stopped at the end of the block. In a moment of celebration, they exchanged double high-fives and passionately embraced each other. Prue turned from the window before their lips made contact with each other. _'Hooray for the gays. That's two more ineligible men in San Francisco.'_

Captured by the scent of something deliciously sweet, Prue followed her nose into the kitchen. Piper was cooking a Saturday brunch for the three sisters, Leo, and Paige's boyfriend, Jamie. It was part of Prue and Piper's effort to acquaint themselves better with Paige—and an opportunity to share with her the warlock test they had developed two years earlier. When Prue reached the kitchen, Piper and Leo were conversing like the prime example of marital bliss that they were.

"Leo, I asked you to _sprinkle_ cinnamon onto the pancakes and _lightly_ dust them with _confectioner's _sugar."

"Piper, I already said I'm sorry."

"How are you going to say 'I'm sorry' before you know what you did wrong?"

Seeing Piper gesticulate with her hands, Prue rushed to her sister's side. "Whoa, Piper, watch it with those hands!" she joked.

"Prue, my hands should be the _least_ of Leo's worries! I baked three dozen, from-scratch blueberry pancakes for breakfast and asked Leo to garnish them with cinnamon and confectioner's sugar."

"Apparently, I used the wrong type of sugar, for which I apologized," Leo interjected desperately.

"No, Leo, you also ruined these pancakes." Piper held up a plate of the offending pancakes, and Prue's mouth watered. Each fluffy pancake was packed with blueberries and covered with a crust of cinnamon and refined sugar. "Does this look like _garnish_ to you?"

Prue shook her head. "Still, Piper, you're supposed to control your anger, sweetie. It's not so bad. Can't we just brush the extra sugar and cinnamon off?"

"I could, but they wouldn't turn out perfect. I wanted this brunch to be perfect, for Paige and Jamie."

"Piper, they're just pancakes. Can't you forgive me for putting too much sugar and too much cinnamon on them?"

Piper sighed heavily and with obvious disappointment. "Leo, you ruined the pancakes because you wanted to talk about a baby again."

"You make it sound like talking about a baby is a bad thing."

Prue gave a low whistle, rolled her eyes, and backed away. _'When will they stop this conversation already?'_ "It is when I have to turn a batch of ruined pancakes into a batch of the world's most reluctant crepes." Piper carried the plate to the counter and went to work on modifying the food. "How are we supposed to have a baby if you can't even garnish pancakes the right way?"

"You could order breakfast instead."

Piper rolled her eyes at Prue's suggestion. "This is Paige's boyfriend of three months who is coming over for breakfast. At her age, dating the same guy for three months is pretty serious. We need to make a great first impression, and hope that no demon attacks during brunch."

Leo approached his wife and placed his strong hands on her shoulders. With a few gentle rubs, Piper's tense posture melted away. "Piper, you are an amazing cook. I messed up because I was trying to help, but you are too talented to worry about my little mistake. This brunch will be perfect. You don't need to hurt yourself trying to overdo this brunch."

Piper turned to face her husband. "This is coming from the man who wants me to bear his children. Leo, have you even thought about what I'll have to go through while I'm pregnant? We're in the middle of a war and…"

"Hi!" Prue waved her arms as a distraction. "Piper, it's almost eleven, so Paige and Jamie should be here any minute now. You should get ready. You too, Leo."

Piper pointed a dangerous finger at her husband. "I don't want to see an inch of flannel this morning, got it?"

A languid smile crossed Leo's face, followed by a gracious smile from Piper. _'Oh yeah, they're going to do a lot more than change clothes.'_ Prue tiptoed from the kitchen to her bedroom upstairs.

Within minutes, she had changed into a pre-selected lavender summer dress with a built-in violet belt. Prue placed a violet headband in her lush chestnut hair to emphasize her bangs and open-toed clogs on her feet. While studying her reflection, she contemplated, _'I'm still pretty and eligible too. Why didn't I bring a date to brunch? _

Prue's reflection responded, "Because brunch is about Paige and her boyfriend. If I came with some random model today, it would have to be a serious relationship."

"Why didn't you bring Logan?"

"Logan is just the type of guy to save a girl in a time of distress. But he's too much adventure for me. I'm glad he's been on assignment since we met."

Logan Butler was the nature photographer with a heart of gold who hit—and saved—Prue three weeks earlier. While tracking a Banshee, Prue had been turned into a dog and pursued the Banshee until Logan accidentally hit her with his truck. There was no time for romance because Logan had to embark on a six-week assignment photographing wildlife on the shores of Lake Victoria in East Africa. When they had international calling cards, they talked on the phone but it was far from being the uncomplicated love affair Prue desired.

"You should call him tonight," Prue said to her reflection. Before she could respond, the sound of the doorbell punctuated her thoughts and was followed quickly by Piper calling from her room.

"Prue, can you get that for me, please?"

"No problem, I got it!" Prue picked up a customized bracelet with her name in gold filigree. _'If Piper and Leo are having sex in there, and I have to host this brunch by myself, then I'm totally owed. I mean, firstborn- child-named-after-me owed, no-chores-for-a-year owed.'_ Prue summoned a beaming smile to her face, strode downstairs to the front door, and opened it.

Instead of Paige and her boyfriend, a slender young woman with the face and body of a magazine cover model stood on the front porch. She stared haughtily at Prue with pale green eyes while her mouth moved from the rapid mastication of a piece of gum. Tawny brown hair tumbled from her shoulders and down the back of her yellow blouse, which had only one button fastened. It barely matched her wrap skirt, colored with all the hues of the sunrise.

"Hi, I'm Belinda." The young woman smiled, but her face was more calculating than friendly.

"I'm Prue Halliwell." Prue offered her hand to shake, but the young woman placed a folded flyer into Prue's hand instead.

"I just moved into the neighborhood, and I lost my cat. I need to find her."

"Sorry about your cat." Prue opened the flyer. It listed Belinda's address and the name on the cat's collar, but something obvious was lacking. "What did she look like?"

Belinda's face assumed a distressed look, but Prue had worn pairs of jeans with more distress than the young woman. _'Whoever owned this cat, it wasn't her. She's probably not very responsible either. It might be her parents'; she's still a teenager.'_

"Tara is a Persian. In case you find her, bring her directly to my house," Belinda snapped authoritatively.

"Ok, we'll let you know if we find her. Thank you, and good luck finding your cat." After shutting the front door, Prue leaned against it for a few seconds and sighed with relief. "She could use some social interaction classes."

Belinda smiled and waited until the door was shut before she turned to leave. As she strode down Prescott Street with her hips switching at each step of her feet, Belinda thought to herself, _'Single, feeling undesired, and a witch to boot…Losing Tara was perhaps the best thing that could have happened to me here in San Francisco.'_

* * *

**_Meanwhile, in the Underworld…_**

Belthazoar was predatory quicksilver as he practiced his swordplay before the flames. In his right hand, he wielded a two-handed sword, which he had dubbed Soulslayer. Belthazoar used his left hand for balance. Each footstep, each swing of his sword was as swift and precise as a panther stalking its prey. The flames he had prepared were more treacherous than anyone he could spar with because they occasionally lashed out bursts of fire in retaliation to his thrusts. They were insatiable for the taste of his demonic flesh, but kept at bay by the power of his sword.

"It is said that the Demonfyre tests one's will." Belthazoar turned and placed his sword's point at the throat of the Seer behind him. Her eyes widened in surprise not fear. Belthazor preferred her fear. "Do you still not trust me, Belthazoar?"

Without a moment's hesitation, Belthazoar responded, "No, why should I?"

"I am your _only_ ally in the quest to rule the Underworld. You need me."

Belthazoar aimed the sword at the Demonfyre. The flames immediately absorbed into the blade of the sword. "You are my ally only because there is something you hope to attain. But you don't trust _me_ enough to share what that is."

"You need to know only that I am allied with you, and that through our alliance, your interests will be served."

"You will serve your own as well, Seer."

"I promise to have your back, Belthazoar."

"So you can stab me in it?" The demon scoffed, scooped up a handful of sand, and scattered it where the flames had been. Demonfyre sometimes proved perfidious enough to return when it was already extinguished. "What did you come here to say?"

"The Oracle has seen something she should not have, in her visions. Her eyes wander to explore things she would best leave alone."

"Is that any concern of mine?"

"She needs to die."

Belthazoar chuckled. "While I long to crush the pretty little neck of the Oracle, she is under the Source's protection. No demon may approach her. Her chambers are protected by spells even I can't break through."

"But I could."

"And will you also perform the deed of killing her?" Belthazoar scoffed again. "If you will, you hardly needed to tell me. I need not be privy to a murder plot."

"If what the Oracle has seen comes to fruition, then you will have no power to take from the Source. An even greater Source of Evil will arise, one too strong for even you to kill." Belthazoar's black eyes remained devoid of emotion, but his sudden gravity was obvious.

The Seer decided to drive home her point. "The Oracle has seen something that could change the course of all history in the demonic world. She is the only one who can bring it to pass. You need to kill her before she sets in motion events that you would rather die than live to see."

"What exactly did the Oracle see?" Belthazoar attempted to sound non-plussed, but anxiety saturated his question.

The Seer smiled and vanished in a twinkle of light.


End file.
